Icarus's blog: "Augurs, Martyrs, and Agnostics"

There's a pain in my arms from not holding you.
My hands locked around my elbows.
Vacant. In pleading.

I wanted to tell you.
Instead I wrote a letter into nothing.
Ashy, and dancing on the wind.

Hoping you would pick up the parts of me.
Scattered and lonesome at your feet.
Waiting.

For that brush against your lips.
That wet, heavy sigh.
That hungry need.

You have the better.
And it says so little
When it isn't enough.