i remember apollo’s smile. it was glorious, bright. i remember it from when i would stand on my balcony, watching him at high noon. sometimes i thought he’d look back at me, and that smile was for me. to fall in love with the sun was dangerous, my father had commented once. my father only spoke of apollo twice. first, on my infatuation, the second was when we left, when i flew on wings to freedom. he warned of the heat. i didn’t care. i dipped low to the ocean, then up. up, up, up, up to apollo, where his hand reached out of me, beckoned me toward him. and then the wax on my back melted, seared my skin and the feather, my wings they came loose and i descended, and i remember apollo wept for me.

and so icarus fell twice, m.g.
(via pooricarus)