i was your midnight and you were my metaphor. you were never really mine and i was only a moment lovers run to out of flushed desperation. sadly, you were greatly mistaken in the way you held me. i am more than midnight; i am daylight. i am warmth. i make your ribs rattle and sternum fracture. are you done with embarrassing me? i am not wilting flowers, but a storm. my love uproots trees and engulfs captains whole. my love ravages hearts and heals old, open wounds. yet though my bones are steel, my heart is still flesh. she beats carefully with every inhale and exhale. she beats steadily; she trusts the way she is cupped between you and i. she beats lovingly and she remembers all your poems. she remembers the way your hold pencils and the way you shake when you cry. she will soon forget; do not worry. she will forget you and the hours it took to rinse you out of my mouth. my love forgives. my love forgets