How silly to compare her
to hurricanes
to thunderstorms
to temporary
cliche swirls of emotion.
She is concrete. She is permanent.

She is brave with her words
and slick with her heart.
There is concentration dripping from her pores
and love sticking to her bones.

She is a lifetime of goodmornings.
She is the warmth of lilac sheets.
She is firmly planted.
She sticks in your mouth
and slams against your jaw.

She is everything

and you’re telling me
the best you can come up with
is a fucking 30 minute storm?

—  Michelle K., She is Not a Hurricane.

thesunsrising asked:

can you do a 4/4 or maybe just Mikey where y/n has a bad sun burn? please?

Michael would probably walk into the bedroom to find you laying down shirtless on the bed on your tummy and at first he’d be like YES she’s shirtless but then in the soft afternoon light he’d notice just how red your skin was and he’d start to giggle because you managed to get sunburned (which he hated, aka why he didn’t like the beach but when he did go he slathered on the sunscreen) so you hear him giggling and you turn your head to look at him, wincing in the process and he stops laughing immediately because he sees the tears in your eyes and he’s just like “oh no, baby, does it hurt that bad?” and you’d whimper a little and nod and he’d lean forward and kiss the top of your head making sure to not touch your skin at all and he’d go to the bathroom and grab the bottle of aloe that you always kept in there and he’d sit down on the bed next to you and you’d hear the bottle open and Michael would whisper how “this’ll probably sting and it’s going to be really fucking cold” but you told him to just go for it so he’d squirt the cool gel all over your back and slowly begin to rub it in to your skin and you’d have to bite your knuckles to keep yourself from screaming because of how horrible it felt and once Michael was done he’d blow cool air over your back and ask if you wanted him to play the guitar or something and you’d just nod some more, thanking him for helping you out.