Pisaries Creator

she was fiery red,
hot blooded during the day,
boiling over when the moon appeared,
nighttime did not cool her down.
the swirls of her liquid sauce struck far,
seeping onto desert tongues,
dripping down throats,
finding places to hide behind tiny scrubs.
she stuck to legs like colored tape,
the kind kids use during school,
that share when the teacher looks their way,
and they ignore the growling stomachs.
the quickness of returning is normal,
people pay attention to this,
no one wants to be an outcast, 
everyone desires to shine their best color.
she was passionate, 
her water flowed with strength,
this was her life and her soul,
she knew no other way.