Your breath carries tornados and running clouds that would fog up the skies and As I endure the rain that would make my leaves fall, sirens and thunders in your mouth that would make me deaf.
I would train my flashlights for your pitch black darkness blindfolded my eyes and trapped my sight in crimson bars, never getting to escape one endless chapter that you've created.
You had fireflies on your tied stomach, trying so hard to give a perfect alibi, emitting words that you'd keep on the tip of your pebble lips.
Magma from the brewed sunsets that would blur the ends of my folded face, melting asphalt on the roads of my chin.
If melancholy was a fire, it would emit like a lion fiercely roaring, it would spread in my barreled mind like fire spreading quickly in a house soaked in the smell of gasoline. It would fight the water from my tear drops like my curtains fighting the washed up air, I would fight the emotions like I would comb my whirlpools to untangle the tangled mandalas of emotions, the tears drenched in rain, and the emitting melancholic fire that left me in pain.
Fire has a silhouette, but why can't people see mine? Just like a burnt house, you got over those volcanic erupts, but just like a burnt house, it still left prints of powdered ash tears and emitting words that I would bury in my wounds, just to remember those emitting days that would burn my pale skin, framed in the polaroids inside my mind.
©sars.
J