Icarus

I was a moth with pale wings
patterned with coffee rings,
thinking that one flutter
could make your heart
skip a beat.
More fool me, that your flame
did not flicker,
did not change for me
and I remained infatuated.
I was that doomed angel
who flew too close to your sun.
My charred feathers fell
like blackened snow
and you handed back my
barbequed heart
presented to me in a bread bun.