On Icarus's Flight

I was bored at school one day (are we sensing a theme here?)
I don't even like this that much. I just miss workshopping.

As Summer’s humidity fades to Winter’s harsh rain,
your eyes gain that melancholic lust,
and your cheeks stain red.
Synthetic energy feeds your lethargy,
night turning to morning and morning to night,
You are the living dead,
drowning in black shirts and skinny jeans,
God, if I could have your woman’s waist,
those stick thighs.
I forget their price;
I cannot pay.
As Bone pervades your soul,
lines will mark this face.
Truth disappears behind contused lies;
you will be Broken
the rest of your life.
And however hard I may try
I cannot glue a broken record,
have it sing like it did before.
The blackness is what you have in common;
your eyes no longer look like mine,
you are not my mistaken brother,
I wish it was your ankle that was sprained,
not your organs.
Your Icarus demise was all I could bear,
romance the pain, woo disaster,
idolize
Disease.
When a porcelain bowl falls, it cracks,
falls too many time and it breaks.
For every word you utter this
bowl shatters.
To forgive myself, I must forgive you
for your indiscretions, your loneliness,
You do not want to be lonely with me.
Red wine cannot be scrubbed from a white tablecloth,
nor can the grape juice of our shared childhood.
This time I am stronger;
next time you fall,
I will not plunge with you.