Love is like a Beautiful Disease

you take the breath from my lungs &
force me on my knees, body shaking
with longing and fear of open doors.

you push me back and watch me
gently fall to the floor like flower petals
and I stare at you, parted lips
and an open heart; waiting for sin.

you whisper “you’re so beautiful”
caressing me with the flesh of your lips
against my ear and I can’t breathe
you’re so close to me.

my body is like lightning beneath you
hot, static, dynamic, amazing
and you’re body is the rain
putting out the fire we’ve ignited
deep within our own desires.

my heart is splitting open and pounding
as your hand cups my face and I can feel
my veins course with fire beneath your fingers
i can’t even think, all my thoughts on you.

and for a moment
we’re the only two people
left on this planet.

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

Red Wine

Her large pink plastic earrings clicked against her sunglasses as she walked fast into the room holding a huge bottle of red wine.  The other agents that had been in the room stopped talking for a minute and gazed over at her, some of them even allowing their jaws to drop open.

What!?” She shrieked, grabbing a corkscrew from one of the kitchen drawers and twisting it into the cork at the top of the bottle.  

“Dess…” Someone said from near her, sounding concerned.

“Not now, Kura,” Dess responded harshly, reaching up and ripping the short black wig off of her head and tossing it onto the granite counter top.  

“Is everything alright?” Kura asked, obviously oblivious to Desdemona’s foul mood.  Dess growled, yanking the cork out of the bottle and taking a big swig.  The liquid went down hot, but not burning hot like other liquors.  

“Did your mission go okay?” Kura asked, jumping a little when Dess slammed the bottle back down on the counter top.  

“Does it look like my mission went okay?” Desdemona shrieked, her brown hair falling out of its place on top of her head.  Kura swallowed hard, looking around at the others who were now busying themselves with whatever they currently had in front of them.

“Uh,” Kura said nervously, backing away from the extremely pissed off woman in front of her.  

Huh!?” Dess shrieked, spit flying from her mouth as she reached for the bottle again, taking another long swig.  

“No,” the girl squeaked, turning around and running out of the room.

“Pssh,” Dess said watching her run out before taking another swig from the bottle.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” a male voice sounded from behind her, Dess whirled around and faced John, the most annoying agent ever to make it into AFTER.

“John,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, but it came out more surprised.  She swallowed, her throat feeling a little dry, probably due to the alcohol.  

“I think you should go and apologize,” John said, reaching out and taking the bottle of wine out of her hand.  Dess growled at him and reached out to take it back.  He held it away from her with a smirk on his face.  She snorted and crossed her arms across her chest, grinding her teeth together in annoyance.

“And if I don’t?” She asked, eyes narrowing.

“I’ll dump your whole bottle of wine here,” he said, bringing it to his lips to take a sip from the bottle before continuing, “Mmm,” he said, swishing the liquid around in his mouth, “And it tastes expensive.”  Dess just rolled her eyes.

“Why should I care?” She said, leaning closer to him, breath reeking of alcohol (and not just red wine), “I stole it.” John smirked again.

“Tch, tch, tch,” he said, wagging his finger in her face, “What am I going to do with you? You’ve been so naughty today.”  Dess blinked, arching her eyebrow and willing herself not to blush at John’s obvious sexual tone.

“Pssh,” she said, clicking her tongue, “Like you’d do anything, you’re not my dad.” Dess reached out and grabbed the bottle out of John’s hand, walking past him slow, hips swaying and practically daring him to do something about her being naughty.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned her, eyes practically glued to her perfectly peach shaped behind.

“Like, this?” She asked, taking another swig from the bottle and heading for the stairs.  When she got to the bottom of the staircase she turned back over her shoulder and blew him a kiss.  

“Told you,” she called back to him, “you’re not man enough to handle me.”  John took in a deep breath through his nostrils, rushing to the staircase behind her.  The look on Desdemona’s face when he stopped next to her was priceless.

“And I told you not to tempt me,” he growled, grabbing the bottle and tossing it almost casually over his shoulder.  Desdemona watched, mouth agape as the wine bottle shattered against the red carpet.

“That’s gonna st—” She shrieked as John grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder, climbing the stairs to the girl’s rooms.  

“I need to teach you some manners,” he hissed, stomping down the hall and yanking open the door to her bedroom.  Once inside, he slammed the door behind him, tossing her onto the bed roughly.  She screamed, grabbing at her white comforter.  

“I just made this bed!” She screamed, grabbing one of her fluffy feather pillows and throwing it at him.  John said nothing, advancing on her and pinning her beneath him.  

“I think someone needs a spanking,” he said, flipping her over beneath him effortlessly as if she were a rag doll.  

“Let go of me!” Dess screamed against the bed, struggling to free herself.

“No,” John said, sniggering a little as he pulled his hand back and brought it down to hit her rump hard.  Dess screamed again, begging him to stop.

“Are you going to apologize to Kura?” He asked.

“God no!” she responded, he smacked her rump hard again.  She screamed, hand clutching at the comforter.

“Are you?” he asked.

“Fine!” She yelled, “Fine I’ll tell her I’m sorry!”

“And?” He asked, smacking her again, but softer and more playful this time.

“AND!?” She shrieked, there was more that he wanted her to do?

“What about me?” He asked, “Are you going to tell me that you’re sorry?”

“In your dreams!” She responded, he chuckled and smacked her butt again, so hard that it echoed off the walls.  She screamed, tears coming to her eyes.

“You seem to be forgetting the kind of position you’re in right now, Dess,” he said, hitting her butt just soft enough so it would bounce slightly.

“Fine,” she whimpered, “I’m sorry, will you please stop now?” John chuckled again, leaning down so he was right next to her ear.

“Do you really want me to stop, Dess?” He asked, his breath hitting against her cheek softly.  She took in a sharp breath, body tensing beneath him.

“I have to apologize to Kura….” She whispered, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Do you really want to do that?” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her neck softly.  Beneath him, she shivered at this touch.

“I don’t know,” she said, whimpering softly as he kissed her neck. “m…maybe…”

“Are you sure?” He asked, kissing her neck again, this time sucking a little.

“You wanted me to,” she muttered as he reached beneath her, grabbing one of her breasts and squeezing gently.  

“Well, we’re kind of busy right now, aren’t we?” He asked, nibbling on her earlobe.  Dess moaned loudly.

“Yes,” she hissed.  Maybe this time…her mind trailed off, remembering the last time John had her in a position like this, bent over a table in the computer room.  He left before he could do anything that time.  

“Don’t stop this time,” she mewled.  

“I’m not going to,” he said seductively, moving off of her a little so he could force her onto her back.

“Promise me,” she begged as he practically tore her shirt off of her and tossed it onto the floor.

“Does it seem like I’m going to stop?” He asked, pulling her up into a sitting position and kissing her roughly.  She moaned into his mouth as he squeezed one of her breasts with one hand and undid her bra with the other.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed as he pulled away to take her bra off.  He chuckled a little bit.

“I’m not going to, Dess,” he whispered, kissing her collar bone gently before moving lower to take one of her nipples into his mouth.  

“A…ah,” Dess moaned, spreading her legs a little bit.

“Wet already?” He asked before touching his tongue to her other nipple, teasing it a little before taking that one into his mouth as well, running his tongue over it in circular motions.  Dess gripped the sheets and moaned even louder.

“You like that?” He asked, amused.

“Don’t. Stop,” she gasped.  He smirked, taking her other nipple into his mouth and licking it in the same circular motion.  Dess moaned again, reaching down and pushing her already short leather miniskirt up and rubbing her clit through her white lacey panties.

“Now, now, now,” John said, pulling back from her breasts, “That’s my job.”  Dess sighed softly as he moved her hand, unzipping her skirt and slowly pulling it down over her legs.  When he got to her feet, he stopped for a moment, contemplating.

“What?” Dess asked, sitting up a little and looking at him, “Why’d you stop?” 

“I think I like the shoes better on,” he whispered, pulling her skirt off the rest of the way and letting it fall to the floor.

“Shoe fetish?” She asked, amused.  John smirked at her, but didn’t answer, instead he spread her legs, fitting himself between them and started to plant soft kisses against her stomach.

“A..ah…” she breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair.  He kept kissing lower, rubbing his thumb against her clit softly.

“Harder,” she pleaded, bucking her hips, but he did not comply, teasing her.  She moaned louder the lower he got, her loudest moan being when he reached the top of her panties.   

He stopped for a minute, watching as she arched her back and bucked her hips again.  Then he started kissing even lower, planting a soft kiss against her through her panties.  Dess took in a sharp breath, back arching, hands gripping against her blanket.  

“You like that?” He asked, teasing her a little by flicking his tongue against her clit through her panties.  She mewled loudly, hips bucking.

“Please,” she begged, opening her legs wider.  He smirked, pulling her panties to the side before flicking his tongue against her bare clit.  She hissed beneath him, biting her lip and spreading her legs as wide as they could go.  

“Mmm,” he said, pulling away from her and yanking her panties off and over her sexy red and black stiletto heels.  

“J…John” she whimpered as he let her panties slide from his hand onto the floor.

“God, you’re so sexy” he whispered, gazing down at her body. 

“I…I’m ready,” she whispered, body tensing slightly at the idea of having sex for the first time.

“Shh, Dess,” he whispered back, pulling his shirt off and undoing his belt before leaning down and pressing his chest against hers.  She gasped, wrapping her arms around him. “You’ve got to relax,” he said against her throat, planting soft kisses.

“Mmph,” she whimpered, body relaxing a little.  John sighed, kissing against her shoulder and reaching down to undo his pants.  Dess tensed again as he kicked his shoes off and pulled his pants down a little ways.

“Dess,” he warned, “relax.”

“I’m scared,” she said as he pulled his pants down to his knees and pressed himself against her softly.  She whimpered a little, feeling him press against her through his cloth boxers.  

“Shh,” he told her, leaning and kissing her forehead gently, “it’s okay, Dess.” She whimpered a little when he pulled back and kicked his jeans off before pulling his boxers off slowly.  Dess swallowed as she watched him drop the boxers into the floor with the rest of their clothes.

“Ready?” He asked, pressing himself gently against her entrance.  She whimpered, gasping and tensing beneath him.

“Shh, Dess,” he said, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh.  She signed softly as he sucked on her skin.

“I want it,” she begged, “please.”  He stopped for a moment, looking up at her and smiling softly and slipping just the tip inside of her.  She whimpered and gasped.

“S…stop,” she begged, “for a second…please…i…it hurts.”  He stopped and waited for a few seconds before slipping farther inside of her.  She whimpered again, tears springing into her eyes.  He stopped again.

“Nnn…” she whimpered, “Keep going…” He pushed in deeper, stopping every time she made a noise like she was in pain.  

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally, almost breathless.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, “it feels so…good…” He smiled, pulling out of her a little ways before going back in.  Beneath him, she moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, heels digging into his back just slightly.  He bit his lip, thrusting a little faster inside of her.

“John,” she practically screamed, moving her hips in time with his thrusts.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered.  She moaned his name again, rocking her hips harder into him, heels digging into his back harder.  He wasn’t sure how much longer…he sighed, pressing his face into her shoulder and biting down on her skin.  She called his name again as he pulled out, coming on her stomach.

Dess sighed a little, watching as John reached for some Kleenex from her bed side table, wiping his cum off of her.  

“You don’t have to…” she whispered and he just smiled at her, wiping the rest of his cum off before leaning down and kissing her cheek.  She giggled a little bit, smiling softly.

“I…” she started, biting her lip.  

“What?” John asked, laying down next to her and brushing a piece of hair out of her face.

“Thanks…” she said, blushing a little at how stupid she must’ve sounded just then.  John laughed, gathering her into his arms and kissing her forehead.

“I love you, Dess,” he said softly, “I….I know it took me awhile to say it…” he started, but trailed off when Dess pressed her fingers to his lips.

“It’s okay,” she told him, “If it’s any consolation, I probably said it too soon.”  He smiled down at her, kissing the tips of her fingers.

“You were perfect, by the way,” she told him, snuggling her face into his chest.  He laughed a little bit.

“But you didn’t…” he started, but she hushed him again, this time with a kiss.  

“We’ll worry about that later,” she said, “right now…all I want is…” she kissed him again before snuggling her face into his shoulder.  He hugged her tighter, naked bodies pressed together tightly.

“I love you too, by the way,” she said, a little late.  He chuckled, running his fingers through her hair.  

“It’s okay,” he said, “I pretty much already knew.”

It’s too late, I’m sure…

He was there when she awoke, standing by the window with his arm braced against the wall.  The light from outside was just beginning to filter into the darkness of the room and her head was pounding.  She could hardly look at him it was almost too bright, the light illuminating his tan skin and bouncing off of his bloodstained white button-up shirt.

“Jonas,” she croaks out his name and he tenses at the sound.  He turns to her then, his eyes filled with concern for an instant before his expression fades into indifference.

“P,”  A woman’s voice whispers in awe from the other end of the room.  P turns her head quickly, the pounding sensation worsening in her head.  She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, closing her eyes tight.  

There’s an IV in her wrist, she realizes as she moves her hand.  Someone had provided her with medical care and with Chuck gone she had just hoped the care they had provided was necessary and correct.  Her head throbbed, her mind racing.  Why couldn’t she remember how she got here?

“What happened?” She asked, unable to acknowledge the other presence in the room through her pain. She heard Jonas shuffle away from the window and come to her side.  His concern made her uneasy, had they not only known each other for a number of small hours?  Across the room, the woman stood as well, her shoes clicking rhythmically on the floor as she came to the bed.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” She asked, her voice soft like sunset.  P was getting the distinct feeling that there was something else, something more hanging in the room between them then just a few hours.

“They took Chuck,” she answered almost immediately.  She could feel the change in the room even though she couldn’t see it.  She could feel Willow and Jonas exchanging worried glances and it made her sick to her stomach.  What had happened in these hours, these days?  A broken, uneasy feeling rushes through her and she feels the hot sting of tears in her eyes.  What had she forgotten?

“Is he dead?” She whispered harshly, moving her hand from her face and squinting up at them.  Willow’s face swam into view first and for the first time P was struck by how beautiful she was.  Or perhaps it wasn’t the first time?  She couldn’t quite recall, broken memories swam just out of reach of her mind.

She stood tall near her, clothed in the same soiled red dress she had always been in.  Her black hair was still a mess, her dark skin marred with the same bruises and cuts she had treated only hours before.  If they wore the same clothing it couldn’t have been longer than a day, could it?  She hadn’t lost more than a few days at most, but she remembered suggesting they change, she remembered them gratefully accepting a change of clothing.  

“Why are you back in those old clothes?” She asked suddenly, not wanting to hear the answer to whether or not Chuck had survived The Glass.  She looked at them each in turn, watching with an anxious feeling deep in her gut as his Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat.  Next to him Willow sucks in a breath, her pink lips parting.  P was shaking now, her whole body trembling with anticipation and fear.  

“You’ve lost a lot of time, P.”  Jonas was the first one to speak, his brown eyes filled with so many emotions.  He was sad, concerned, angry, but there was so much more there left unspoken.  She turns her head slightly, slowly to look at Willow who was looking at her with a similar mix of emotions in her eyes.  Something dangerous passed between them, something she didn’t quite remember.  She felt her stomach knot, her skin prickle with something electric.

“How much time?” She asked, her body reacting to their closeness.  Willow reached out and gripped her hand while Jonas settled his arm behind her shoulders.  The touch was both new and familiar, it made her feel like she was floating, dizzy with an emotion she didn’t quite understand.

“It doesn’t matter, P,” Willow says with a soft smile, leaning forward to press her forehead against P’s own.  At first P wanted to flinch away, the contact seeming so new and unwanted, but she remained there, unflinching and allowing the contact.  It made her stomach roll, erupt into a feeling she had never before experienced, her skin was hot beneath the touch.

“It does matter,” P complained, her eyes fluttering closed in some sort of muscle memory as Willow bumped her nose against her.  Jonas, for his part, remained calm and silent next to them, his hand gripping her shoulder in a reassuring touch that should have made P feel disgusted, but left her wanting more.

“You still remember,” Willow whispered, noting how she leaned into them for comfort.  P tensed, she didn’t remember, not quite.  She could tell there was something hanging in the air between the three of them, something she couldn’t quite touch, but it was there and it was palpable.  Willow tilted her head, nose brushing against hers once more.  P opened her eyes slightly, mouth watering, heart thudding in her chest.  

“I don’t remember,” P corrected, her eyes half closed, her lips parted in some strange sexual way she had only seen in magazines.  Her body reacted in ways that betrayed her.  In ways she didn’t quite understand.  

When she surged forward, so quickly it almost hurt, Jonas’s hand falling from her shoulders in surprise, it was almost as if she had not acted of her own accord.  Her lips found Willow’s, soft and warm against her own.  Her head ached, her body stinging in pain, but it all took a backseat to the feeling of the moment.  

Willow allowed her hands to rise, cupping P’s face, tilting back her head, fingers scratching softly at her jaw in a way that made P shiver.  She could feel the tears now, falling hot over her cheeks, catching on Willow’s fingers at her jaw.  Jonas stirred next to her, his hands on her again, cradling her back, rubbing soft circles between her shoulders.  She knew she should find it strange, should find the touch in such an intimate moment to be unwanted, but she didn’t.

Beneath his touch, her skin ignited.  Her lips moved hungrily against Willow like a woman starved.  It was like she had been without food, without water, without breath in her lungs.  When she finally pulled away, Willow lingered, eyes still closed and lips parted.  

She struggled to breathe, these newfound sensations nearly overcoming her, but before she could think another set of lips found her own, his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head back gently.  Her head sang in pleasure and pain as he kissed her.  His once clean-shaven face now had a very pronounced stubble that tickled and scraped against her face in rhythm with his lips.

She had lost time, she had lost too much time she knew.  Her body’s reaction was a not only a betrayal to her mind, but it was also filled with a whisper of her memories.  When had they done this?  When had they become this?  She pulled back from him, heart thundering in her ears as she laid back on his arm and watched them.

Both of their eyes wide now and glassy with tears.  She swallowed as her own tears continued to fall.  This was a situation she had never been in before.  She had never lost her memories, never experienced the power of whatever electric feeling passed between them.  She reached up to run her hands through her hair, noticing for the first time that her head was closely shaven and her fingers had instead met the indentation of a large wound.  She pulled her hand away immediately, a loud, sharp sound escaping her mouth before she could stop it.  

Her eyes were on her companions again, searching.  She was mutilated.  She had been injured and severely at that.  The indentation in her head indicated a wound that was deep, but had begun to knit together again.  The time she lost echoed between them, her fear and self-hatred escaping through her tears that had begun flowing faster.

“Am I dead?” She asked suddenly, not trusting what was passing between them.  This harmony of need and want.  The feeling of something so much larger than herself, unable to be contained within her.  It felt so much like bliss, the harmony she had always been taught death brought to the people of The Sand.

“You’re not dead,” Willow spoke immediately with a sharp, startling laugh.  Her tears finally began to fall down her face, her gaze settling on the wound wound that marred P’s face.  It was a large, terrifying scar that stretched from her chin to the apex of her scalp that was held together by stitches and grafts of skin from the dermal regulator.  It was a wonder they had saved the sight in her eye.  

“You’re not,” Jonas confirmed, pressing a soft, tentative kiss against her scalp to the right of her ugly scar.  She felt his tears slide against her short hair, tingling against her skin as he wiped them with his thumb.

“I don’t understand,” P said, her voice sounded broken, confused.  She looked at both of them in turn, the ache in her head and neck forgotten for now in lieu of understanding what had been done to her.  

“You are very much alive,” Willow said, her voice sounding almost distant.  As if it had sparked something within her, a ghost of a memory that skipped away from her probing finger tips.  

“You’ve said that to me before,” P said, brow furrowed.  Willow nodded sadly, her tears zig-zagging against the dirt on her skin.  She could feel it, the ghostly haze of a memory igniting within her.  Next to her Jonas and Willow were silent as she worked through it, lost in the fog.

She could see it, almost as if she were watching a story.  There was screaming, impossibly loud noises popping all around them as she lay bleeding on the floor.  Her head ached as if it were on fire, her eyes coated in a liquid so thick she could not open them as she lay there choking on her own blood.

She could feel Willow next to her, her voice was soft and still against the torrent of other impossible sounds.  Her hands were gripped harshly against her wrists.  

“Stay with me,” her voice said, the only thing she could hear.

“Am I dead?” P struggled to ask against the blood streaming into her mouth.  She was choking, fading away by inches.

“No,” Willow said, voice loud and certain, “You are very much alive, and you are loved.”

“Loved?” P asked when she came from the memory, her eyes on Willow an understanding settling between them.  Willow nodded, choking back a sob. Love.  She was loved.  She turned to Jonas, her tears falling in earnest, making her eyes ache.

“Loved?” she asked him and he nodded too, holding her to his chest as gently as he possibly could.