I stood strong like gun metal against every desire you shared of creating a future with us together.

You’d nag at the trigger.

Every. Single. Time.

Trying to get it out of me; trying to make me fall short and believe your perceived truth.

Every. Single. Time.

I choked, fighting to hold everything inside me.

And with time, you’d polish me up; embellish me with sweet nothings that both you and I believed as truth.

My shell started warming up to your feel.

We were inseparable.

You’d hold me at your waist, reach at me for comfort.

And I’d sit there.

Loyal, patient, unwavering.

My stone grave metal stopped shying away from your heat.

My casing fell away.

I thought, “Maybe it won’t be so bad, for the trigger to pull at me and push everything out.”

But with time, I became too heavy. Too much to care for.

My silhouette wasn’t worth the attention.

I became a burden.

And then one day, you took me from your hip, and threw me away.

And the moment I fell to the ground, the empty air around me gushed to snap my trigger.

And all that heat shot out.

The hopes and desires I didn’t want in the first place: they escaped me.

Freedom at last.

And now I’m stone cold gun metal, with undying heat locked up inside me,

once again.