He is the calm before a storm brewing inside of me.
As the mass and danger of the storm build,
He knows it's coming;
Before my eyes turn dark, and my face red.
He sits in silence, and he waits.

He is the eye of the storm that I have built.
When my body calms and begins to slow,
He knows it's not the end.
He coos soft words,
In hopes to soften the next blow.

He is the calm after a storm of my own creation.
When I am destructive,
And throw my anger like a tidal wave,
He wraps his arms around me.
And with his grasp,
He brings a warmth that could make the sun envy him.