I make flower crowns when I am sad to remind the sun i cannot feel but I miss her warmth. My heart is icebergs and my lips are tinged blue.
The sky in me is only ever blood red but it makes for cherry sunsets and firetruck sirens. I run at things teeth first with fire dancing on my lips.
I speak only in whispers when i talk to the moon. I know all about the way cold hearts melt under the beating sun and I bet I can howl loud enough to shake his bruises into craters if I tried.
