I need to write something beautiful. Something that isn't filled with hurt. Something filled with beauty and passion-and love. I wish I could write some of the pretty poetry I used to write. But I have no inspiration.
So I'll write on beauty. This is sort of a rivalmance with Anders and Hawke... but I'm a bit awkward with my writing now. Not obvious at all. Pfftt. Oh, Anders.
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Damp, wet, deep soft.
Memories flood and love concedes,
Telling me-satisfying me with all that I need.

Soft skin and tender kisses,
All of which render me listless.
No energy to fight, no hate to argue,
All anger dissipates, fading to blue.

Love fills me, hearts pound.
You are with me-we are bound.
We are one, lost in one another.
Freedom is a myth, but I don't need it.
I can't run, or hide.
I can simply be.

It's a comfort, it is,
To be with you.
To know I have someone,
Someone true.
Someone who loves me, who cares.

I'm not afraid. Not with you here.
I'm not afraid... because I know I don't have a thing to fear.
I trust. I trust you, and who you are-what you feel. 


That smile, as a moan escapes my lips.
That warm feeling near my hips.
It's all new; it's all different.
I don't understand why I'm so insistent.

You're here, and I'm here.
You're here, and you're near.
Getting closer, growing closer.

So close, so fast,
I forget the past.
All the arguments and rivalries that drove us to tears and frustrations,
Remembering all the past smiles-past indications.
That things can work.
That things can change.


Even as I clung to you, helpless with need.
Even though we'd argued just before.
I trust you.
I love you.
And that's the part of it that I understand.
The only part I need to understand.


The hateful comments, and passionate apologies.
All of it. Was part of you-part of me.
And I'm glad for it.
I'm glad for you, and I'm glad for me.
Someone will try and tear us apart.
But I'll be here, as you'll stay near.

I have you.
And that's all I need.