Metaphors

I'm tired of being a metaphor.

I want to be concrete.

The creaking of a door,

the flickering of the streetlight outside,

the rustling of sheets,

the 'I missed you'; 'I'm sorry I'm home late.'

I'm tired of being 'a symphony',

of having 'sapphire eyes',

of having 'freckle constellations'.

I no longer am an 'explosion',

a 'hurricane',

or 'the ocean after a storm'.

(I wanted to be me,

for you.)

I want to be real.

Plausible.

Plausible like a preying mantis eating prayers.

Miraculous as an eclipse outside a Denny's.

I want to make ordinary beautiful.

But,

I am a metaphor.

I am everything

but me...