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I called you the sun In the hopes that I would be Icarus. Legendary and famous And dead in a blaze of passion. But you are not the sun,
5… When you feel a hand squeezing ice into your fingertips, cold as those distant galaxies you had always studied, as a new star was being born,
When he gazes at her it is in full view of her beauty and to spite those, who say he shouldn't, He is in love with her. Her skin is warm. So warm that he thinks she might be able to warm his heart,
I tell the tale of a family violent and free and unpredictable No soul would believe they existed in our everyday lives
What happens when you peel away the layers Scrape away the acrylics Is it a doll inside a doll Inside a doll All with the same expression
When the flowers claw their way out of the barren ground And bloom into the blue of your eyes Will I be reminded of you I remember the day I first saw you A statue, mourning the loss
The Uber was early And more radiant than expected From it rope ran Into the setting sky’s Cerulean canvas Tugging what I don’t know,
Apollo’s haikus, They are really something else, still becoming worse. He struts into clubs
As times change and myths are sculpted we see the gods once reverred move alongside humanity, evolving and ever-adjusting to our trends, culture, and norms. Apollo, the god of healing,
Wings out stretched, feathers fluttering in the wind. "Don't go towards the sun," they said. "you'll fall to your death" So Icarus stayed low
there is something inside me, i say this a lot. i say this so much it's grown into its own small world, its own small sea of love that i wade into on the worst of nights.
Myths and legends are alive and well all around us. Apollo lives in the steady hands of a medical surgeon In the voice of the newest, hottest star
Healers in tow with a golden arrow and bow Perfect and steady, always at the ready Their hands are accustomed to removing tumors Commanding the operating room while obliterating rumors
Apollo has sent his horses to rest Artemis has come out to dance So close your eyes It’s time to sleep But don’t forget to Pray to the Gods to watch over you As you sleep in blissful peace
Here I sit... Underneath the glory of my sunshine... But I'm about to throw a fit... For I am in a bind! I cannot catch a tan, For even though I am a god, The sun is not a fan...
apollo would be gay he would dance with his sister playing on his harp or lyre emmitting sunlight from his skin he would eat grapes and speak in poetry and all his children
I did not wish to love a man. I loved the chase careful treading eager listening A conquerer queen of my domain a force
perhaps the story goes differently this time just like the last time icarus falls but this time someone is there to break his fall apollo couldn't
Mythos, Legend or not?, Kings and Queens forgotten?, Seek thy legends and stories of realism, Dare we look upon ....the twelve Olympians? Hence the age of 2019,
made of sun itself: red converse on black tarmac, running whipfast to god-knows-where on a Saturday in mid-July. blasting Lizzo on a crappy tapedeck as the sunset bleeds itself crimson across the horizon.
Dear Artemis, Stop blocking the TV, And leave me be. I just want to write my poems And listen to music on my headphones.
the people paused, mulling over history's words, then asked, "and what is the sun? does it die at night when our cities collapse and our people smother it with their own versions of history? or does it
the people paused, mulling over history's words, then asked "and what is the sun? does it die at night when our cities collapse and our people smother it with their own versions of history? or does it
when they say to the moon and back i've always thought of it as a straight line but do you remember that when Apollo 8 did go to the moon and back
Dear Apollo, You are the God of so many things. You may have already noticed this, but I have too. I noticed you are the God of sunlight,
22 November 2017 - 1:42 am i saw you once with bare feet scampering through a far-off foresteyes shooting arrows from your lycian bow into my psyche
I am a narcissist. I am a fool. I am a living paradox from which nothing escapes Unscathed. I am Apollo pining for love,