If you asked me to name your beauty, I would say you are a sky.
No, you are not free or open or blue-eyed, but I've seen how quickly the grey clouds can billow inside your being and consume your light.
I know your desperate thoughts rumble and roar and frighten away the canaries of your mind.
And I can imagine the tears you shed pouring endlessly like rain behind your flesh and bones.
And I just can't bear the way your panicked heart beats echo as strikes of lightning in the storm of you.
I watch you rage on as you sit still.
My desert being aches for your rain and I want to kiss your lips and make you swallow my sun.
But, the elements can not be persuaded, forced, or bribed.
Nature tells us the only way to survive a storm is to weather it.
But, I'm terrified because humanity is not a forecast and I'm realizing that sometimes we are our own natural disasters.