Baby, I have a hurricane of hair
and a storm behind my eyes
and one hand on my hip,
ready to fight for my beliefs.
But I wouldn't mind
if you'd be my sunshine,
kiss the lids of my eyes,
I'll take my hand off my hip,
put your hands on my thighs,
I'll let the anger slip away, if just for today
so I can recite for you
my prettiest poetry
in between cinnamon kisses
and tell you stories that I heard
in the rustling of trees on a breeze
and maybe it's too much that I want
to know all of your everything,
but I'm imagining moonlit dancing
and lazy days spent listening to music
and walking through new cities, hand in hand.
We could have it all, baby,
let's just give it a chance.