He doesn't know
that he is my harbour after a stormy day
A haven
where I let my thoughts drift and dreams rest
That he is my rain, sunshine
and rainbow at different times  
And the muse behind my songs and rhymes
He doesn't know
that he is the reason behind the smile in my eyes
And why I sing and curl my toes
He doesn't know
that he sets my pulse racing
And I suppose he will never know.

come as you are
flesh: scarred
pure tenderness
skin charred,
adrenaline

let down your guard
tongue tied
isolation
justified
stagnation

for your eyes only
difficult
vulnerability
reciprocal
fragility

now we're in the backseat,
and my stomachs turning.
maybe i just want people in my life
in an un-romantic way.
i like to get under their skin,
and steal their souls story.
i love how everyone is different,
and i can't hate a single thing,
because it makes them human;
the girls who steal bikes at midnight,
and the guys who offer their apartment
out at night.
i find myself in the wrong crowd,
i find myself in these situations,
in the backseat,
with someone who's speaks a
language far from consent
and it's all desperation.
his hands on my neck,
and there's no attraction,
physically.
mentally he has a way of making
my head spin faster than the
alchohol,
and i'm not sure if i'm
kissing him sober,
or if the night itself is drunk,
and i'm waiting for the sun to shine
a light on my mistakes,
as it always does.
i take their stories, they take mine,
but i'm not sure what part of it's true.
the girl in the backseat,
the girl shaking,
the rigid lips and bites.
maybe we won't speak,
maybe he'll lecture me again,
for using my body as a token
to pay my way.
love is an expensive thing.

tuck me under his salty seas -
a blanket tidal wave
let me wash upon his fleshly beach
to venture and misbehave

pull me just below his surface -
his mirrored tide pools
to submerge into his inky trenches
and lead me to the vestibule

guide me along his furrow -
his scars and phantom pains
then let him create in me his burrow -
his tender hiding place

There is an angel whispering softly in my head
we speak our own language, no one understands
And they tell me to stop harming myself
with love as a pretext
I read the signals I'm sent and I feel at ease with them
Am I losing my mind? Am I regaining it?

I can't help wondering about the rhythms of life
About how revelations always stand out
Because I've never been here - or have I?

What are we going to do with our bodies? That forcE and that drain
I am fighting night and day, to understand the riddle of it
Your love is a riddle to me

I'm being driven by a forcE, my beloved INTP, my love!
Because it hurts but I'm prompted from above
something we gotta do
Angels talk to me,
Michael Glatze, I can feel you
Enlightened, confused, clean, wise, unsure