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icarus in the dark
and i tell myself 
that i am loved. 
but i find myself in pain, 
fire gutting through heartwood
slashing my roots
crumpling my knees into my chest

everybody is around but no one is
watching as i smile. 
an artist of my blood
a puppet in my own consciousness
shouting for your critical eyes
contorting for your blinded ears

acid etching myself into the silver plate
that exists only as an image in the mirror 
a creation of yours, not mine
beautifully and cruelly without agency
you give me wings but all I know 
is to fly after you like a shadow losing form 
in the fabric of the night

and when i die,
will i make a sound?
or will the cicadas drown me out?
will people’s heads turn out of concern 
or morbid curiosity or ridicule or
will they not look at all

one day my eyes will close and 
my bones will break and 
I will scatter 
and then
and then what?

will you tell me
that I was loved?
Katherine Pan
Published in Issue 42