I Taste

Palms that sing to touch, kisses sting too much.
Fire on my lips, holy ghost spit, holy hunger split.
Eyelids heavy yet can’t sleep.
Hunger hurt can’t keep.
1/3 cup of sugar makes a blue face.
1/2 teaspoon of high half-baked.
Tears taste like salt,
Mine a scarlet fault.
Haunting “XO” kiss hug,
Recall warm womb of blood.
I can still trace the scars that killed me,
Can still be tempted by the shrill need.