Life On a Burning Star

Author: Brianna Bouchard

We brew underneath a purple sky, 
Bubbles on our skin, the burns of wealth. 
Lying in soil beside birds with burst bellies 
From too strong a heartbeat—
Wailing on the drums for prosperity,
One couldn’t beat hard enough.
 
Sangria syrup drips off the horizon. 
Airy winds brush and cerulean trees dance 
To the cello strings of God’s breeze, 
Pursing his lips and letting the gusts escape. 
Juniper glazes the atmosphere— 
Beauty from above; 
Kisses on the lips of life. 
Money and sage, we breathe like oxygen. 
We nurse souls with color,
Burning our skin under the sun:
 
Crimson rays and ultraviolet rhythms. 
We are born without eyes— 
The iris of this existence lies in the dirt,
Somewhere beneath, six feet deep.
 
In this world of utter luminesce, 
We are merely another idle presence. 
Barren branches; fruitless we are. 
Our only swan song, and the greatest by far: 
Life on a burning star. 

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