Transforming Poetry

Sunkilled

Have you been sunkissed?
By that one persons burning syrup?
Planets revolve around them,
They are ambrosia, elixir, a cherub.

Nectar of the gods,
Their flavour a complex syndrome,
Tastes of fiery sugar,
Tender honeycomb.

Their rays form meadows of light,
Where new victims can frolic,
Bask in their addicting warmth,
Innocent and melancholic.

But don't stay from dawn til dusk,
The temperature rises,
Sucking more life from your body,
Taking souls as prizes.

Hearts speed and slow,
To the beating lines,
Bubbling skin cells, boiling blood,
Balloons inside show more bad signs.

Air no longer welcome,
Are you hot or cold?
Do they love or hate?
Why must they always scald?

The prettiest things, often hurt,
Their tendrils stroking gently,
Or is the stroke inside?
Suddenly they feel deadly.

But still women revolve around him,
Yearning for heat, begging ice away,
So he burns them again,
Till they scream anyway.

Finally he grants release,
But their bodies pine,
For sunlight and the kisses,
From the burning mans mind.

Who's love can kill like fire,
Who's ignorance freezes.
Iced or burned, which to choose?
He does just as he pleases.

He won't notice the pain,
Or anguish he may cause,
He simply keeps on walking,
Lighting all with force,

In heavenly, hellish fire.
Till they drop, blackened crisps,
Sucked dry of all they can give,
Their hopes and dreams now wisps.

The gentle caress they dreamt of,
No longer possible.
One touch and they disintegrate.
Ash and dust, the smell volatile.

They encircle the sun,
His gruesome devilish halo,
Stained, charred grey,
From the hearts he has laid low.

With his orange starlight he picks,
Like rubied pomegranate seeds,
Each heart up one by one,
Placing them in their seats.

A shimmering smile etched,
On his own perfect olive skin,
Feeding obliviously off each seed
Popping them in his grin.

Till left only with dry plain pips,
Half chewed and tasteless,
He tosses them aside,
Not caring if they grow afresh.

They had never asked for this,
All they wanted was that perfect tan,
Sunkissed skin and lightened hair,
To show all, his favour they won.

But all they got was disinterest,
To be absorbed in his flaming surface,
So he can continue to burn,
While running his rotten circus,

He leaves them behind burning,
Embers, quivering, unfulfilled,
Lying in their own dark ashes,
Having at last been sunkilled.