Icarus'd

I really hate goodbye kisses!

Your tan skin radiates-
damn, I swear,
I can see each
individual flake
of snow so-
so-white.
It's like a highlighter-
this snow blanket
beneath our feet-
and it bathes
you in glow as
it brightens the
midnight ground
around us.
You beckon,
but,

I will not be Icarus'd.

My love for you
has become cliche,
and on this mutual
goodbye,
Ariadne,
I will not answer
your call for a final
kiss,

I will not be Icarus'd.