Atticus Poetry

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The Girl Who Talked In Sing

That was her gift,
she caught your imagination,
the girl who talked in sing.
And that's where I found her,
running in the desert,
footprints scorching in the sand,
magic swirling in our minds.

It was youth that burned inside her,
that much I knew,
and she shone then
to steal your heart.

Every move was wind across my face,
and her smile echoed in my eyes,
breaking them into a thousand pieces.
And upon the glass we danced on,
brave tin soldiers
marching in the desert dust.

There she took my hand,
and her fire was mine,
this pure white light,
scorching my soul
in the cold desert circus.
And on the sing poured from her,
embering the world around us.

But as the suns rose,
my heart gave ways
to fading laughter,
for in this moment,
I knew,
a setting sun,
a truth too pure to live forever,
and still,
here she was perfect,
a shooting star,
and me, young Icarus,
with a bold heart
and melting wings,
let her turn me to ash.

— a t t i cu s

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