Coals

His lips tasted of cigarettes and liquor
Of loneliness and
Anger
Like the blackness that blanketed the world
After the first sunset
The hues mimicking the color of the

Blood on his eyelashes, the
Bruises on his cheek, the
Circles under his eyes

Giving away the grey smoke that swirled
In his veins

Scarlet slashes over his tattoos
Adding color to the already vivid canvas
That was his mind and heart
He was burning to touch, yet
His irises were nothing but glacier ice
Cold and
Unforgiving
His fingers cracking apart like porcelain
Small fragments of him breaking onto
Concrete

The gasoline fills his lungs
Sparking with a ragged breath
A fire that'd consume all but the
Arsonist
Destroying those around him
While cutting at
Himself
Until he is nothing but raw and vulnerable

He is destruction
Terribly beautiful,
Bittersweet like the taste
Of cinnamon on your tongue
A tsunami of a life gone
Wrong

His lips tasted of cigarettes and liquor