A Moment for Realization

You, my darling are a vice
with your soft pink lips
and barely-there curves
hidden behind the most 
perfect shade of red.

Darling, you’re the essence
of perfection, small hands 
with thin fingers curved 
over keys of black and ivory
slamming out a beautiful melody.

Your laugh is like music
and your smile is the moon
you’re nervous across from me
like you know what’s coming
but don’t you, sweetheart?

It’s obvious what I want
what I need from you,
“just a taste”, darling
and you’re all mine.

i am a blackhole

I am;
broken promises hanging by the 
threads of heartstrings
I am;
darkness and loneliness
tears alone under the moon 
I am;
the rain in winter
broken, estranged, ice cold
and hidden in hearts
I am;
a princess, lost beneath
the crushing black hole of
I am;
afraid I wont get out in time
to be saved from dying
I am;
the reason no one smiles 

X’s Over E(x)pression

I feel censored beneath
the crippling weight of
everything that is expected of me.

To be upright and 
correct, to live under
the eyes of scrutiny
to not deviate from 
the path I haven’t
even chosen.

I am who I am and I’m
tired of being someone different
for everyone else
it wears me away fast
and all I am is bones;
e(x)pressionless against

Bones so lost and broken
no one will even question
where I’ve gone or
why I was never beautiful
or eye-catching
or why I’m bent and

I’m gone and no one
even spares a second

Kiss Me Like a Picture

I can taste you

how bad I wish 

you were mine

but I’ve already

watched your 

dark brown hair

and blonde/purple/pink

high lights slip

through my fingers

and walk away

with words that

tore my heart free

loosened amongst 

my insides.

You were an

angel maybe once

mine but not now

as I watch you

hunched over 

your desk 

and interested

in your work

like I don’t


Everyone wants you

I’m not sure why

you’re so universal

right? You’re so

beautiful that 

you can have

everyone and

everything and

you like to play

with feelings

but maybe I

do too and…

maybe that’s why

I still keep 

your pictures

and your kisses

close to my


Hunger Games

I couldn’t contain the elation I felt upon seeing him again.  Seeing his beautiful blue eyes, his brilliant blonde hair.  I flung myself into his arms, not even questioning he might not be able to hold me due to his lower leg being amputated thanks to those abominable Hunger Games.  

As soon as I was in his arms, his legs buckled, but I could hear his laughter in my ears.  

“Oh Peeta,” I whispered, tears stinging in my eyes before rolling down my face freely.  He doesn’t answer in words, instead he grabs my waist firmly with one arm and strokes my hair with the other.  I feel so safe and happy I almost forget that we’re not the only people in the room.  

From behind us Haymitch clears his throat pointedly and my mother’s own throat clearing follows.  The two of us scramble up off the floor quickly and stand facing our small audience.  Although Haymitch and my mother seem displeased with us at first, it’s not long before they descend on Peeta, almost as glad to see him as I am.

Then just like that, almost in an instant it seems, Haymitch and my mother excuse themselves and give us some time to catch up or roam the ship.  Whatever we please to do, really.  I have a lot to tell Peeta and he obviously has a few things to tell me too.  However, when I meet his eyes I can tell that whatever we have to say can wait.

He gathers me into his arms again, hugging me, kissing me.  He’s holding me so tight I can barely breathe, not that I even care.  I don’t ever want him to let me go, I’m so scared he’ll disappear again.  Like he’s not permanent.  Like he’s a dream.

“There’s no cameras you know,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my ear and I flare my nostrils, growling a little in anger at his comment.  His kisses against my throat diffuse any anger he may have conjured however, as I feel myself relax against him again.

“I missed you,” I said, voice sort of strangled because he’s holding me so tightly, “God, Peeta, I missed you.” I kiss him again, tangling my fingers in his hair, holding his face, touching his chest.  I just want to feel every part of him, I want to make sure without a doubt that he’s real.  That this isn’t another one of those nightmares that plagues me.  The ones where he disappears and I’m left wanting.

“Don’t let me go,” I beg when it feels like he’s moving away from me.  I sound desperate and I can feel more tears spring to my eyes at the simple idea of his arms leaving their place around my waist, against my back…in my hair.  


To finish? Probably not.