#oldhearts

AND LORD, don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too TIGHTLY  

                                               There’s something dark inside

                                                     So don’t let in the light

Send “My lips are Skittles, wanna taste the Rainbow?” to see my muse’s reaction.

come  get  some  of  this  ! 

Platonic Requests for Affection

There was a time where the epithet would have made her jaw clench; back when they were victors thrust into another game.       Back when she’d sized him up and assumed ( incorrectly as history would show ) just exactly the kind of man Finnick Odair was.            Now, they were soldiers of the same army.       Enemies of the Capitol.        Escapees. Terrorists.      Traitors.      Survivors. 

The nights are as long as they are loud - both plagued with nightmares that haunt them even out of sleep.         Neither of them good at losing; struggling to come to terms with the fact that sometimes winning isn’t as quick as the thrust of a trident or the snap of a bow. HEALING isn’t fast.   It isn’t pretty.   It isn’t easy – but there’s something about having him close, someone who understands exactly what it is that keeps her from sleeping night after night, that makes coping a possibility. 

So, she joins him on the steel bench.     Leans in as his arms slides around her shoulders to pull her close, head finding comfort on his shoulder. Finding solace in an unlikely bond.