Last night he called me
precious.
He said that I was
precious
just like a
sunset.
But i am sure that
one day
he won't believe that anymore.
One day I will
let go of the storm
right under my tongue
that i have been holding at bay.
One day i will let waterfalls
pour out of my eyes
and drown everything.
One day he will wake up
and open his phone
and look at me,
or perhaps another girl,
but he will realize the same thing:
That i am not what he thought i was.
With my cold hands that match
a cold heart.
With blue eyes that hint at
a brighter soul than there is.
With light skin that hides more
darkness than the alleyways downtown.
With restless muscles that can only mean hidden rage.
And that sunsets are never quite what you see them as.