It’s the color of your breath,
when I ripped open my skin
showing you all the planets that spin inside my veins,
the air between us a frozen crimson,
our mouths made of steal;
stars rushing down your throat
as we kissed.
It’s the sound of your pulse
beating inside my bones when I spoke to you for the last time,
The sound of my own voice climbing inside my eardrums
your response deafening; without saying a word.
It’s the taste of your silence, spread across my palms, your thoughts screaming on my skin;
everywhere I touched, there you were.  
It’s all the empty gaps between my soul and my body,
filled, with something emptier.
Filled, without you.
It’s the taste of your mouth at 2 AM, when I told you that your hands smelled like gasoline, and your soul of wildflowers.
My words felt like fire inside my throat,
flames that spread across your entire body as they escaped from my heavy mouth.
Darling I’m a forest fire,
and this poetry inside of me, it tastes like sapphire.
This sapphire will burn down this whole town that is my body.
It’s going to eat me alive.

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Cory Garcia
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