I am drawing patterns along your palms
With the tips of my fingers,
And your voice is piercingly cold
As it shimmers across my skin.
You say I am not enough-

And then you soak in me,
A cat in a patch of sunlight.
One moment purring in baritone
The next, hissing in falsetto.

You say you may want another-
But you shiver in the silence
Of my absence, i know
What it is that you want.

You want the world spinning-
You want the possibility of pain-
You want to stand on that window ledge
Again and again.

But I am not chaos and strife.
I am their daughter,
And I have built a home
In the eye of a tornado.

I do not tear houses from the ground,
I do not uproot forestry-
I am the rope that holds down the fort.
I am a good man in a storm.