The Ongoing Storm

You're the tail end of a storm, the orange light tinging the clouds, the last echoes of thunder that roll across the skies. Distant and dangerous, beautiful to see but impossible to touch, you leave me with a strange sense of unease, like I just missed something awesome and rare, that you know of and I have no hope of ever experiencing; like the apocalypse is just around the corner and you know all the techniques to survive. 

You are wary, a wild thing with its heart in a cage, because it offers more protection than just your ribs. You hide. You hunger too, raw, bloody, for the things you'd never dare speak, confining them to the cage with your heart so they never get out. But they live in your eyes, in the way your hands curl into fists when you're not thinking. We're mere humans but there's something of the hurricane in you.