Lips Fire Red

Lips Fire Red By Edgar Leon

I raise my hand and worlds come to life

The blue oceans fill up to the brim

The land covers all green and lush over the expansive and cold azure.

As I speak my warm breath gives life to beings of white light.

My hands lay out the ground before them.

Setting them in order.

Ending lives is nothing.

Like picking up a knife and letting red run.

I pick up a number two and I think of you.

Laughing at your contempt

At your shouts

Black rimming your veiny eyes

Tired from the crying and shouting.

But you can’t stop staring at my hands’ work.

You can’t sleep knowing I have more to say.

You lust after my fire red lips.

You stare at their gloss under the hanging green light above.

And you say.

Who is this that I have to listen?

What are these things he is saying?

She?

They?

Are.

You.

Okay?

Can I bring you a glass of water?

Are you parched like a dry desert yet?

Have I taken your essence from you?

Have I told you enough for you to think you know me entirely?