Sunrise

She’s always been one to see the rainbow after the storm. She sees sunrise in the love he’s tattooed beneath her right eye feels the warmth of his soul rising over her left shoulder smeared with azure and lavender hues eclipsing her left breast and she stays because his love is like the sunrise. The beginning of something new she has never felt before. The rays of his affection color her body from head to toe inside and out she has never felt a feeling so deep for another human being and he promised it wouldn’t happen again. But she loved him and stayed still to please him never standing tall beside him to avoid him feeling small inside her she kept her lips pressed pleasantly in passion pink lipstick his favorite and the sunset every evening. The mornings fragrant with hazelnut and caffeine clean cotton and listerine she approaches every day anew bridging gaps of perfection she bought a picket fence last summer because somehow she thought the white accented the moon and as evening falls she sits silently admiring the sunrise painted upon her skin tomorrow she’ll try not to make him mad again and with every inhale she brings the moon closer to her because in darkness he is still sleeping in clean cotton passing out in fumes of frustration and failure he still sleeps sound and she mimics the moons motions wanting to draw out the darkness because in daytime all she sees is this rainbow of reasons why she should leave him she wishes she were stronger but she can’t make herself move stuck in this cycle of promise and passion never feeling beautiful before him he hasn’t always been this cold but she has always been the one to see the rainbow after the storm to notice the beautiful beckoning of the lightning during rainfall the sound of thunder soothes her because in silence she has a moment to sort through the reasons she should leave. She keeps a suitcase hidden in the closet packed with her belongings to be prepared for the next time he brings morning to her pale skin opening the door every evening thinking today was just a bad day and tomorrow he’ll keep his word. He hasn’t struck the kids yet and maybe it’s just her she tends to ask too many questions ask for too much affection dreamt often of perfection and married the first man that told her she was beautiful. She was in love with his intensity he was always the life of the party he’d put his hand of the small of her back parading her around like beauty embellished by his broad shoulders, she looked better beside him he used to make her smile and sometimes he still does so she can appreciate this kaleidoscopic of colors doesn’t need a reminder of how she could do better because she’s always been one to see the rainbow after the storm to see sunrise in her scars and he still calls her beautiful.