My sister fell, at the neighborhood pool,
on the cement, instead of into opal water.
She said the **** on her knee
looked just like a maraschino cherry.
Red like a maraschino cherry,
or a clown's nose,
or like the fire
in the center of our planet.
The ****** **** dripped cherry juice
down her leg
in between her sun burnt toes,
evaporating off of the cement.
She reminded me of lava,
constantly bubbling
always moving
always destroying
without hesitation.
The reaper of flowers
and ice cream cones.
Red cheeks, red like Geryon.  
Purposefully confused
and always wondering.
I hope I can answer any questions
she has, when the need
to know evolves to thirst,
and the fears she has now
as a little lava girl
become fears that we all feel
as destroyers in our own lives,
wrecking everything,
reaping the flowers
that are growing
in the ashes of our youth.

hues of pale peach wash
the air in solar flare soap
cherry blossom shoes

cherry blossoms fall
trees weeping for their homeland
tears of pink and white

Your cherry coloured lips used to
bring the coral blush on my cheeks.
But now it boils my crimson within,
leaving my face all scarlet with rage.

You were the apple of my eye,
as precious as ruby to me.
But now, wine and water seem the same,
and jam never tastes as sweet.

Feel the monster's dress,
the last sign of the kingdom
of ****** you can use...
Weapons full of drink,
foxes and animals buried
in shadows watching
the hill when they arrived.
Do you know the universe?
**** girl, ur first time
on the hill of *****...