you’re not real 

do you remember the night that you told me

i look like how saffron flowers taste

dancing on your tongue and coating your fingertips in a red golden hue

like the color if we set the world on fire

we were laying in that one hammock

in the backyard of that one party (i don’t remember who threw it)

and it was dark

so i don’t know how you could’ve seen me 

with only the moonlight and a shot of tequila to help you perceive more clearly

maybe you thought you could save me

or maybe i thought you could save me

either way

you made me believe arson could be beautiful and 

saffron mixed with tequila wouldn’t taste so bad together

both bitter, both burning, but in the end 

something you either hate or love

do you remember that night as clearly as i do

where we dreamed of setting the world ablaze (metaphorically speaking)

and you matched my warmth

all i could think was that

you’re not real

as you covered my torso

with the blanket the host gave

(october chills are no joke)

i could see the kindness in your smile

and the understanding in your touch

i liked how you didn’t want me to be cold

(even though I loved my outfit and didn’t want you do cover it up)

you kept holding my hands and kissing them

like they were actual saffron

to try and get its medicinal properties to seep into your skin

and hopefully infuse me into you. 

that night was the first i realized

there’s no way i won’t be consumed by you.