Sage Walton (18)
icarus (an undying love for the sun)
i lean my head out the window
my arms outstretched
my wild and tangled curls escaping
into the night air
i think i can reach the headlights
with my fingertips
and i think if i keep reaching
i’ll touch the sky
the breeze out the window is
pushing me towards it
the cool air making my skin hum
my mother always warned me to
never fly too close to the sun
that icarus learned his lesson and
that it’s about time i do too
she told me that icarus didn’t listen
to his father
but i know he did
i know he listened
but no amount of advice could keep him
from the way the sun made his skin
golden and so warm to the touch
nothing could keep him
from his love
nothing can keep me from mine.
she always warned me that the farther i go
the harder i fall
ma, i want to go as far as i can
i’m not afraid of falling
fear is what has kept me trapped in a box
of old photos and sweaters
from a boy whose kiss reminded me more of
crashing tides than calm waters
a boy who took a hammer to me
and didn’t clean up the pieces
fear kept me in love
with a boy who wasn’t there
fear kept me in the shadow
of expectations i could
never fill
fear kept me from
living
and now
i never want to taste cherry
on someone’s lips again
i don’t want to sit in vacant parking lots
listening to love songs that
make my blood feel like static
and i won’t take this heartbreak with
a grain of salt
i won’t take it at all.
instead i will fly too close to the sun
because you gave me wings, mother
you taught me how to fly
and i am tired of being afraid
maybe this will burn more than
i would like to admit
maybe my wings will melt, too
or maybe this time
i will fly higher than
the
sun.
driving while solar systems collapse
we are driving
and you hit the gas pedal
a little harder
and i grip the sides of my seat
until my knuckles are white
i bite my tongue
let the taste of blood keep me
silent
because i can see it in your eyes
you’re headed for something bigger
than this universe
i can see
solar systems collapsing
empires rising
in your eyes
something about that gaze terrifies me
i’m worried you’ll try to go there.
you’re headed for something
that’ll keep you
from feeling
numb and fragile
raw and void
we are driving and
you hit the gas pedal
a little harder
i can feel the hum of the
engine rattling inside of me
and it’s
over.
Sage Walton is eighteen years old and a senior in high school. She lives in Colorado and has been writing since she was nine years old. She has always had a passion for writing, literature, and reading. She self-published her first poetry book last year and hopes to one day have her own publisher.
icarus (an undying love for the sun)
i lean my head out the window
my arms outstretched
my wild and tangled curls escaping
into the night air
i think i can reach the headlights
with my fingertips
and i think if i keep reaching
i’ll touch the sky
the breeze out the window is
pushing me towards it
the cool air making my skin hum
my mother always warned me to
never fly too close to the sun
that icarus learned his lesson and
that it’s about time i do too
she told me that icarus didn’t listen
to his father
but i know he did
i know he listened
but no amount of advice could keep him
from the way the sun made his skin
golden and so warm to the touch
nothing could keep him
from his love
nothing can keep me from mine.
she always warned me that the farther i go
the harder i fall
ma, i want to go as far as i can
i’m not afraid of falling
fear is what has kept me trapped in a box
of old photos and sweaters
from a boy whose kiss reminded me more of
crashing tides than calm waters
a boy who took a hammer to me
and didn’t clean up the pieces
fear kept me in love
with a boy who wasn’t there
fear kept me in the shadow
of expectations i could
never fill
fear kept me from
living
and now
i never want to taste cherry
on someone’s lips again
i don’t want to sit in vacant parking lots
listening to love songs that
make my blood feel like static
and i won’t take this heartbreak with
a grain of salt
i won’t take it at all.
instead i will fly too close to the sun
because you gave me wings, mother
you taught me how to fly
and i am tired of being afraid
maybe this will burn more than
i would like to admit
maybe my wings will melt, too
or maybe this time
i will fly higher than
the
sun.
driving while solar systems collapse
we are driving
and you hit the gas pedal
a little harder
and i grip the sides of my seat
until my knuckles are white
i bite my tongue
let the taste of blood keep me
silent
because i can see it in your eyes
you’re headed for something bigger
than this universe
i can see
solar systems collapsing
empires rising
in your eyes
something about that gaze terrifies me
i’m worried you’ll try to go there.
you’re headed for something
that’ll keep you
from feeling
numb and fragile
raw and void
we are driving and
you hit the gas pedal
a little harder
i can feel the hum of the
engine rattling inside of me
and it’s
over.
Sage Walton is eighteen years old and a senior in high school. She lives in Colorado and has been writing since she was nine years old. She has always had a passion for writing, literature, and reading. She self-published her first poetry book last year and hopes to one day have her own publisher.