Blood lust swooning for you through the blue of my veins, blushing under my skin.
Beneath my footsteps I see the flowers blooming in my wake, dark and heavy, scarlet and snow. Bellied wrists with the marks of a civil war.
I cried for you. And now under these layers of flesh are wounds too deep to fade away and too fatal to stitch. My bases are bombed and all nine of my relentless souls have been shot with bullets made of a million diamond shards.
They say there is beauty in the breakdown but is there still beauty when the ruins start to decay? Is there still beauty when the bloodied skin melts into the ground and the bones are stained selfless with the collapse of molecules and hope?
I’ve been told I’m a fire starter, a soul that moves and shakes to the rhythm of the earth. I have a quaking heartbeat that is never satisfied and a deep, gouging hunger that sparks flames like atom bombs and rips the earth’s plates from their rusted ways. They say I’m, destructive. I guess in a way I am.
But the paths I clear and the crops I burn never leave the plains of my own flesh. Because the Hiroshima is in my soul and earthquakes, well they only affect those who walk all over me.
But you, and now, the rivers are flowing with violet, draining like an escape, flowering out into scarlet like the tips of petals. Cooling my skin, and settling the shakes, like it always does I guess. Cracking open the bomb shelters and sending splintering wood down my spine.
But you, you can walk on water. You can put out the fires and settle the surface into calm oblivion.
I don’t understand why you don’t just extinguish me already.
I told you in the impersonal shape of a iMessage bubble, that I do notice, ya know, the way you can’t even look me in the eye. You said you didn’t mean to come off that way. I told you “I have to go”. Nine letters, swimming in an ocean of Technicolor blue so wide the phone was 10 times heavier. The distance between us was transatlantic, but we live two miles apart.
So the fires flared higher until one day they reached my eyes. The earthquakes broke my heart into a thousand scarred and bloodied shards. My skin, splitting like dry wood, bruising like the ground after a long, hot rain.
Scorching and furious, I cried for you. But you didn’t hear me.