Evil Hate Cow # 1 (perch_and_creep) wrote in dolltongue,
Evil Hate Cow # 1

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bluwyndfaerie part 2

author: bluwyndfaerie
fandom: spider-man the movie
disclaimer: marvel owns these characters not blu, not me. blu has kindly allowed me to host some of her wonderful fics and poems here. To read her other work please follow the link to her ff.net account.
feedback:feedback for blu
website/homepage:bluwyndfaerie's other fanfiction

Disclaimer: "Hey Jude" belongs to the Beatles, not to me! Spidey

and all related characters belong to Marvel, not to me, either!

Hey! I really like this song, so I encorporated it into my fic! This is

another sappy romance, but it's a little different. Review please!

PS - I'm adding chapters to my other Spider-man stories. :)


Under Your Skin by Blu Wynd Faerie

Rated PG13 because that's what the movie's rated

Genre: Romance

Summary: Song-fic based on the Beatles' song, "Hey Jude." Sappy

romance about MJ and Peter. Movie-based. Dedicated to all my Spidey-

obsessed friends, especially MC because she threatened me.

Peter Parker had never been so depressed in his life. He was tired, as if a

steam train had struck him to drain out all his life. He was lonely, as if the

rest of the world had died to leave him stranded. He was pitiful, because he

loved a forbidden treasure, an untouchable, untainted woman.

Schoolwork! He had work to do for college. Stone-like, like a statue, he reached

for a pen and started to jot down notes from his textbook. Did it matter anymore?

He was going to spend his life studying, and then use that knowledge to work,

and then he would die alone. It was a sad, sad fate that lay before Peter.

He sat at his kitchen table, blue eyes icy and distant, writing words that

seemed to blur.

He couldn't think. He could hardly see. He hardly even hurt anymore. It was

more of a numbness, and he could not even feel the pain. He couldn't feel joy,

either. He was a shell of his former self, slipping deeper into the black

recesses of his mind. Devoid of all emotion, he finished outlining the chapter.

He felt no satisfaction in completing anything; nor did he feel happiness at

saving lives, or seeing his friends, or simply being able to breathe. Peter's

being seemed to be fading away like morning dew evaporating in the

noon's sun. What if he had just melted in the middle of the night some random

day? Already Peter could feel his insides starting to boil, starting at his center -

his heart, of course.

Done. His schoolwork was done. What next? Was there some other chore to

fill his empty existence with? Maybe he could make himself something to eat.

He did remember to eat. It was something for Peter to do to take his mind off of other

painful matters, even though it wasn't a very good distraction. Sleeping wasn't

a good distraction either. His slumber was always invaded by terrible images,

troubled emotions, black death.

Music sometimes helped. Peter liked listening to songs and seeing how they

applied to him; all those tragic lullabies seemed to fit him. The radio was in

the living room next to the couch, so he went in there and flicked to the

first station that wasn't cloaked in static. A familiar song was playing.

Hey, Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.

Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.

Peter laughed at this, throwing back his head to rest of the back of the couch.

The irony of it all! The song was right. He needed Mary Jane almost more than

he needed air. And, yet, he was unable to have her. As he laughed at the sickening

nature of the world, his eyes teared up.

Hey, Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her.

The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.

"I know," Peter told the singer. "But you don't understand." He wiped streaming

eyes and wrung his hands together thoughtlessly, not even realizing what he

was doing. "Have you ever stood in my shoes, loving and unable to love,

bound by a red suit, ready to die and lay next to your deceased uncle? I

almost wonder if I belong in the grave more than in this plane of life."

And anytime you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain,

Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.

For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool

By making his world a little colder.

Peter Parker blinked. But didn't he have to carry the world on his shoulders?

That was his duty, his calling. He was the famed Spider-man. And that carried

a risk too great for any other to bear. He could let no other person live with that

burden, especially not Mary Jane.

Hey, Jude, don't let me down. You have found her; now go and get her.

Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.

Peter knew that things would be better with Mary Jane. Her sweet, glowing smile,

her vibrant hair, her shining eyes, and the way she just seemed to hold the

secret of the world in her palms just made everything right. He loved her

with every part of himself, every cell, every atom. There was nothing about

her that he could say was a blemish. Yes, Mary Jane was flawless, and she was

the one who loved him, and it all fit together like a children's puzzle that even

a four-year-old could comprehend. But, why did things have to be so complex,

so deep in running? Peter didn't want them to be. He wanted her, and that was

why he had to stay away, or so he had convinced himself.

So let it out and let it in; hey, Jude, begin,

You're waiting for someone to perform with.

Peter wanted to smash in his radio. He hated life, and pain, and even

love right then; all those things had torn him into little shreds. His pieces

were strewn over the apartment like bits of paper from the shredder. Why?

He had asked himself a million times before, but he had never received an


And don't you know that it's just you?

"Just me?" he repeated.

Hey, Jude, you'll do,

The movement you need is on your shoulder.

He felt his cheeks flush and his eyes fill up with tears. So that was the answer!

All along, he had thought that life itself had done such horrors to him. Never

before had Peter realized what had been sung all along - it was not what life handed

him that was important, but what he did with what he got. Life could throw hell in

his face if it wanted to. He could suffer as life willed him to, or he could turn the

tables on destiny and choose for himself.

What did he want? Peter wanted Mary Jane, despite everything. Could he waste that

over the lemons that life was giving him?

Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better.

Peter had been skipping lines. He had been missing that for so long. Peter had to make

the best of this sad song that life forced upon him, not dwell on it. He had to make it better.

He would make it better.

Remember to let her under your skin, then you'll begin to make it

Better, better, better, better, better, better, oh –

He shut off the radio, ending the song before it had finished. It had done its job. Now,

it was time to go do his - not his job as Spider-man, but the one as Peter Parker,

student, and photographer, and lover. Snatching his keys, running his hand through

his hair, throwing on a coat, Peter could hardly contain his excitement.


The doorbell rang. Mary Jane, sighing with her loneliness and brushing her loose

hair back from her face, got up to answer it. Maybe there was a murderer at the door,

ready to kill her and get everything over with.

Mary Jane did not expect to see Peter at the door, his bright eyes shimmering in

anticipation. "I need to talk to you. I need to tell you everything," he stammered,

hardly able to choke out the words.

Mary Jane stepped back, her eyes wide with shock, and let him in, shutting the door

behind them both. Peter watched her, catlike. She was so perfect, and so wonderful, and

he couldn't wait to just exhale all his sorrow. He wasn't even nervous. He didn't bother

to even slide off his coat or settle in.

"Can I take your jacket for you or something?" Mary Jane offered, extending a hand.

Peter blinked at her, shaking his head. "No," he responded. "There's no time for that. I've

wasted so much time already, wasted weeks of what could have been. I can't hold back

any longer, Mary Jane," he explained. Unthinkingly, driven by instinct, he lay his

hands on her shoulders. "Mary Jane, I need you to try and understand something, and

then I need you to try in your heart to forgive me."

"What it is, Peter?" she asked, looking concerned, touching his hand on her shoulder.

"I made the biggest mistake of my life two weeks ago," Peter told her. "Do you remember?

You were there."

"Mr. Osbourn's funeral was two weeks ago," she breathed, blushing. "I'm sorry about that,"

she murmured in an apology, her eyes flitting downwards, remembering her heartfelt

confession. "I never should have told you what I felt - what I feel. I'm sorry that I made

you uncomfortable." So much of her hated herself for saying that. Mary Jane

didn't like treading on soft ground, and she had, and she had sunk herself in quicksand

that she was unable to get out of. She had made herself into a fool that day, expecting

that he felt the same way. He did not, and her heart was broken, and everything about

their friendship was slowly drifting apart. How long had it been since she had seen

him smile, since she had hugged him, since she had said his name.

"No!" Peter objected, silencing her with a finger over her mouth. "Don't be sorry, not

ever. I am the one who needs to be sorry, because I lied to you that day."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously, her lips brushing the finger over them.

"When I said that I didn't love you, I lied, Mary Jane," Peter breathed. "I do love you,

more than I think either of us can understand. I love you with every part of my being.

You just ... drive me crazy, Mary Jane." His eyes lowered a little. "I only plead that

you might find it in your heart to forgive me for not telling you then." He cupped her

cheek softly.

"But you said-" Mary Jane whispered as the world flipped upside down. Her heart raced,

her adrenaline rushed, her face flushed, and her eyes sparkled like sapphires. She had

been dreaming of something like this, but she had always woken up before. Was this

the part where it usually ended with the shrill ring of the alarm clock?

"But I lied."

Mary Jane gasped, her eyes watering up and spilling over. "But why didn't you

tell me?" she asked, her emotions all jumbled up. A thrill raced over her, and, yet,

she didn't want to get up her hopes yet. There was something she didn't know. Was he

going to say the punch line yet? She wished he would just say it. If he was going to

shove her away, why didn't he get it over with?

"I'm going to warn you that it's complicated," Peter started, squeezing her shoulder.

"But I trust you." He took a deep breath. "You know Spider-man, of course." Mary Jane

nodded, not certain how Spider-man played into the story. Peter went on, "I'm not

really his photographer. In truth, I'm ... well, I'm Spider-man."

"To be honest, I had my suspicions," Mary Jane said in a whisper, her brows knitted

together. "It's surreal, though, to hear you say it."

"You knew?" he asked, head turned slightly to the side. "But how?"

"When I kissed you two weeks ago," Mary Jane explained with a blush, "I recognized the

way you kissed, how you tasted, from when I kissed the masked man in the rain before."

She laughed a little. "All that time, when I would talk about him to you, I never realized that you

were Spider-man. How could I have been so blind?"

"Well, the mask is intended to hide the truth," he joked, chuckling a little himself. Mary Jane

smiled, but her face fell suddenly. "What's the catch, Peter? I don't get what your identity

has to do with us," she sighed, waiting for the smack of rejection.

Abruptly serious, Peter replied, "I made a mistake, Mary Jane. I know that if you and I

get together, any enemies of mine will use you against me. You'll be the primary

target of any attack, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"Is that all, Peter?" she rasped. She shook her head, unable to accept what he was

saying. "Is that why you pushed me away? You didn't want me to get hurt, is that it?

Oh, but, Peter, please, don't let that stop you, stop us! I don't care about that!" she

started, getting worked up as her eyes frantically darted around his face, searching

for emotion.

"Shhh," he cooed, craning his neck towards her. "I was about to get there." When she

bit her tongue, he went on, "But I just realized about twenty minutes ago how stupid

I had been. You're amazing, Mary Jane, everything I could ever want. And, as much

as I don't want you to get hurt, I don't want to be without you. I can't let an obstacle

get in the way; we just have to defeat it. I didn't see before that we've got to make

the best of what we have, even if it's near nothing." He smiled at her faintly. "Please,

could you forgive me? I was so doubtful, so paranoid. I still am afraid."

Mary Jane blinked back tears and nodded. "Don't be," she said, stepping closer to him

and sliding her arms around him.

"Do you think you could take me back?" he begged.

"I wouldn't dream of turning you down, Peter," she said with a wide smile. And she

suddenly burst out crying, because she had the one thing she wanted most in the

world - love. She flung herself into his arms, sobbing into his shirt, unable to

stop herself. His arms secured her against his chest possessively, rocking her

back and forth and trying to calm the crying young redhead.

When she had herself somewhat composed, Mary Jane looked up from her

refuge in his shirt folds to Peter's eyes. They were a brighter blue than she had

ever seen them, shining more than they had in days. She realized with a start

that tears brimmed at the edges of them.

"I love you, Peter," she breathed passionately, stretching up to capture his lips

in her own. Tightening his hold on her, Peter pressed her against him, relishing this

long-needed kiss. Their mouths released briefly, only long enough for Peter to

whisper, "I love you, Mary Jane," into her ear. With that, he seized her in his

arms and spun her around giddily before kissing her again with as much fervor as


Hey, Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better.

Remember to let her under your skin, and then you'll begin to make it better

"Under Your Skin" by Blu Wynd Faerie

Chapter 2 - The Salvation of a Star-Crossed Voyager

Peter was high on life. His apartment was not distorted, but, rather, it seemed

to hardly be there. An apartment is only a place for the physical body to live.

A woman is a gorgeous, precious creature, a place where the heart can and should

dwell, and that is the most important thing of all. Thus, Peter's thoughts

were certainly much more on the woman he loved, Mary Jane, than on any

other element of his life. Spider-man, that masked character, and his job, and

his parchmented, shady past all seemed to disappear in the light of the city lights

sparkling through his windows. Even he himself seemed like a withered memory of

days of yore, unimportant, vanishing upon the horizon of time. All things were

insignificant against the shining sun that was Mary Jane Watson.

There's a calm surrender to the rush of day

In a happy, giddy stupor, Peter went about his routine. He beamed

in the mirror at himself, knowing that he was Peter Parker, nothing out of the

ordinary, and that was alright. Running a hand through his hair, he grinned in

the mirror, confident of his smile and all those other things that lay underneath

his skin that no one could see, things that only Mary Jane could move, inspire,

touch. He buttoned up his shirt, covering up the familiar suit, and shook his drying

hair a little before exiting the bathroom in a stride that was rich, regal, saucy,

and blatantly boastful. He was loved. He hummed a nameless song.

Yes, Peter was high on life, on love, on the air that he breathed and the song

that birds sing and the way that light shines through the green summer's leaves,

and all those other beautiful, simple joys.

When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away

He picked up the phone and smiled. Clicking on the speed-dial, Peter listened

to the ringing. A voice sounded on the other line. "Hello?"

"I'm coming, my love," he whispered huskily, grinning to himself in anticipation.

There was no need to say his name, and no need for her to say her own.

"I'm glad," Mary Jane said back in an equally soft voice. "I can't wait, Peter."

He could almost see her biting her lip, fidgeting a little, her red hair

falling into her eyes.

"I'll see you soon," he replied, blue eyes shimmering like crystals. He hung up

quickly and rushed for the door, snatching up his keys on the way out. Peter

slammed the door shut, flew like an eagle down the stairs and down the street,

and let his rapidly moving legs carry him down the golden path that led to her

apartment. He hardly noticed that his legs were in motion; he only saw

people go by in a multi-colored blur, and he heard the only barest whisper of the

throngs of people as he sped through them, darting between the too-slow bodies.

He passed crowds, mobs of workers, turning heads as the roadrunner went through

Queens as if he were a moth drawn to flame.

Flame, fire red, Mary Jane's hair- all things do lead to paradise.

An enchanted moment, and it sees me through

Peter had heard of love. He had been told a million times over that it is beyond

heaven, beyond any other experience, drowning out pain and other measley

distractions. He had been lied to; love is far greater than any words could say.

Love is a completeness, a fulfillment of destiny, the ultimate nirvana. He could

hardly believe that he'd been so stupid as to push Mary Jane's love away before;

he'd been missing perfection, blissful and everlasting.

The stairs to her apartment seemed to glow in a hazy way as he climbed them; he was

quivering all over in his hurry, adrenaline pumping, heart racing, vivid memories resurfacing

and resurfacing in an endless circular motion. It was as if he was ascending into the clouds,

where the blue and white paint was chipped. The apartment door was such a thin barrier,

the numbers on it meaningless, its small frame nothing to stop him from getting

to Mary Jane. The keyhole shrank until it seemed as if it were only the size of

a pinhead, insignificant and forgettable. Peter had a key, after all, and he was

pulling it out of his pocket when the door opened.

It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you

"You came quickly," said a soft voice. Red flashed, blue glistened, and ebony reached

out. Mary Jane's hair fell into her eyes, and she tossed back her head slightly

as she stood watching him in the doorway. Her black shirt came to her wrists,

which extended to him lovingly as she wrapped him in her arms in a motherly

fashion. Peter relaxed, falling into the folds of her shirt, his eyes fluttering shut

like butterflies descending on honeysuckles. She was being possessive, and Peter

liked it. Snuggling into her shoulder, he murmured something indecipherable that

included her name.

She laughed a little bit. "What was that? I can't hear you. You're speaking to my

sweater, Peter," she giggled in that way that girls do; her light, airy voice

sounded like bells, music to his ears.

"I love you, Mary Jane," he repeated softly, sighing.

And can you feel the love tonight

It is where we are

She swooned, kissing his temple. Wow. "I love you, Peter," she said, brushing her nose

against his face haphazardly.

It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer

That we got this far

"Let's not just stand here," she told his ear. "Come inside." She took his head

and plucked him through the threshold, as if he were as light as a feather.

Her apartment stood out more clearly than his own because her essence lingered

all over it. She had chosen the wallpaper, framed the photographs, burned away the

time making memories there. It was easy to see that indeed Mary Jane Watson lived

in that place. Everything was lavender and deep blue and green hues that

all seemed to reflect who she was, who she had been, who she could and would


"A drink?" she asked, motioning to a small room. There was a stove, so he assumed

it was some semblance of a kitchen, no better than his own. He shook his head and clung to

her arm as if he were a willful child not wanting to go to school on the first day.

"Is something wrong, Peter?" she asked quietly, looking troubled. She withdrew from

his hold slightly, backing up a step to size him up, as if seeing his exterior would reveal

some inner, hidden turmoil.

"No," he said with a smile. "It's just that- well, things seem very different these days." When

she tilted her head in an encouraging manner, Peter went on, "I woke up this morning

and everything seemed to melt together in a puddle. I can't remember what I ate for

breakfast, or what happened at school, or what faces flashed by me on the way here- and I

don't care. But, now, right this moment, things are so clear. I can see all the patterns on

your walls, the ridges on your sleeve, the icy sparks that seem to branch from your pupils,

each flitting of your eyes as they watch me carefully. Do you see, Mary Jane? Everything's

right when I'm here with you, peaceful. Time is busy work when you're gone." Peter stepped

forward, taking her hand in his own.

And can you feel the love tonight

How it's laid to rest

Everything seemed to thunder and pulse. The sky was darkening, but the cause was not

a storm. Brilliant pale lights exploded in their heads, and chemical reactions sparked as both

shivered in ecstacy. Fingers laced together, dovetailing together. Eyes met, smiles cracked.

The echoing boom was their hearts as pure magnetism drew them closer and closer. The

world lit up in a magnificent glow. Everything slowed and stopped.

It's enough to make kings and vagabonds

Believe the very best

"I guess that's what love is, huh?" Mary Jane said with a giggle, tightening her

grip on his hand. She brought a foot closer to him and shifted her weight in

his general direction, the deepness of her eyes penetrating him. "You know

what's the best part about this, Peter?"

"What?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist tenderly, making an

electric link between them. Glass walls had long ago been shattered.

"The fact that it's only just begun," she breathed, sliding against him. "Think about

this: we have eternity ahead of us. Eternity never ends, Peter. We have so much

that we can accomplish, so much to become. I can't wait to see what's next,

what's coming right around the bend." Her hands played along the strands of his

hair, running in light touches along where the locks met the skin. "I guess you

could say I'm... thrilled." Something about the way she fit into his arms, how her

fingers trailed across his face, that look in her eyes was certainly thrilling.

Intoxicated by her, his other hand encircled her waist, floating on air

effortlessly as it swung around to brush her back. She was a drug that he

was addicted to, a tantalizing, attractive lure to Peter. All he wanted was to

hold her, to love her, to give himself to her.

"Thrill" was a good word choice on her part. "Rush" would have also

been suitable, since Peter could feel a million joys well up deep inside of

him to spill over. It was even better than navigating the cityscape,

watching the small dots of people below, free-falling towards concrete

until he rescued himself with webbing. It was better than feeling

like an eagle, a hero. It was as if he were a thousand eagles perched on the

top of the Empire State Building, watching, waiting to plummet off the

edge and soar, thrilled.

"I am, too," he said in a soft, quiet voice, as if he was only a shadow of

himself. He leaned forward and met her lips in the most subtle of ways,

tenderly, slowly, savoring the kiss, as the floor dropped beneath them

both to leave them falling in a spiral of a sigh.

Peter heard her throat whisper at him. He broke their sweet embrace to

look at her. "Something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Mary Jane met his eyes. "I was just thinking about something," she said,

thoughtlessly tracing the line of his jawbone.

"About what?"

Her lips curved up in a smile, and she chuckled slightly. Mary Jane

answered, "About how romantic you are," she explained, massaging his

shoulders carefully.

Peter laughed a little, his brilliant blue eyes turning upwards to the

heavens, which he silently thanked for giving him this wonderful

girl. "Really?" he asked, clearly surprised. "Well, how's this for

romantic?" He immediately seized her mouth with his own, his

arms around her tightening. Mary Jane gasped a little into the kiss

and soon found herself lost in a tornado of passion, hearing her

heart thud in the deepest part of her center, surrendering to


They broke the kiss after a long moment. "Wow, Peter," Mary Jane swooned,

laughing, her eyes bright, her breath gone, her heart full. She felt dizzy,

as if she'd woken up too quickly. She simpered a moment before pulling

him down to her again, and everything but sensation swam away.

How she loved this man. The beautiful, intelligent, gold-hearted Peter

Parker was her own, the one person she could even solely claim, the one

person she knew she affected most in the world. It made her feel somewhat powerful to

control the emotions of the famed Spider-man, but that was the least of it. What she

enjoyed the most was the look in his baby-blue eyes that spoke of treasures

attainable, futures unfolding, happiness blooming like perennials.

There's a time for everyone if they only learn

That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn

Peter smiled and snuggled into her shoulder, kissing her collarbone.

She raked through his hair as he did so, her lashes fluttering. "Have

I told you before that you're amazing, Peter Parker?" she asked quietly. "Have I

ever told you that you're the most wonderful person alive, and that you drive me

crazy when you just turn your eyes on me, and that no one in the world

means more to me?" His face raised to her own. "Have I ever said that, in all

ways, you are absolutely perfect?" she sighed, running a thumb across his cheek

gently. Peter took her hand from his face and kissed it smoothly.

"I am in your debt, Mary Jane," he said with a grateful tone to his voice, "for saving


She met his eyes curiously. "Me? I never saved you. You were the one who kept me from

falling to my death at the fair, the one who rescued me from the claws of the Green


"Of course you saved me. You cared about me when no one else did. Do you remember

how many times I had to chase the school bus, how many times you made that

bus driver stop to let me on?" he said into her ear, his hands on her shoulders, his

voice bouncing off of her. Mary Jane could almost taste his breath. Peter went on, "Mary

Jane, you had faith. You supported my work, my decisions. I recall your encouraging

smile when I said I'd gotten a job as photographer for the Daily Bugle. But most

importantly, above all things, Mary Jane, you let me love you, and you loved me back.

That' just- completeness for me. You offered me a piece of the world that I'd never

thought possible: total, utter, palatable bliss. Do you know how much it means to me to know

there is someone who I can go through time with, regardless of any wall or fortress in the

way? You made me feel that it was okay to be Peter Parker, because you loved me," he replied.

And he smiled that handsome, boyish smile, the one that made her insides melt and swirl

around as if she were a blender. She couldn't see him grin, though she could feel him

move against hers as they stood locked, her cheek to his. Her eyes were closed, and

all sounds but his voice were drowned out in the echo of his beautiful, melodic words.

"And you still do all these things every day, Mary Jane. You save me from a lonely fate,

isolated from the rest of the world. You give me love. You give me the strength to wake up every

morning and smile at the world," he told her. His palms against her shoulder blades rubbed

tenderly. Peter's lips vaguely trailed against her cheek.

There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors

When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours

Mary Jane smiled and blinked back wetness brimming at the edges of her eyelids.

When the water spilled over like Niagara Falls, Peter kissed away her tears softly

before laying his lips on her own.

Ecstasy. It took him over as he surrendered to the passions of a red-haired woman

who was his idol, his goddess, his eternal savior. And soon enough, everything

melted away to leave puddles of silk and just Mary Jane and Peter standing there

on top of all the rubble, triumphant, needing no worldly items, but only each other.

And can you feel the love tonight

It is where we are

Later, after all the light bulbs were out but the candles had been lit, two

forms lay curled on the couch, a deep green cover draped over them,

their white socks peeping out from under the edge of the fringed cloth. An untouched

soda sat on the table, the ice melting into water under the heat of a nearby flame.

Their dark shirts seemed to blend in with the night and the blanket, but their

faces glowed, smiling.

It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer

That we got this far

Peter stirred. How had they fallen asleep? Oh, yes- they had been talking in bare

whispers, lovingly caressing each other with words and fingertips, when both

had started to wither up in the moonlight. He smiled, looking at Mary Jane's head

resting on his shoulder, her mouth slightly parted, her vibrant hair cascading over

Peter's shirt. He laid a kiss on her sleeping lips before reaching over her to pinch out

the nearby candle flame, leaving the room in darkness.

And can you feel the love tonight

How it's laid to rest

Mary Jane stirred slightly as he moved back his arm. "So soft," she sighed sleepily.

"Like Peter's kiss." Her words faded away into silence, and she exhaled deeply. Peter

Parker smirked at her, the little redheaded angel, and closed his eyes to join her in the

world of dreams.

It's enough to make kings and vagabonds

Believe the very best

He would dream of red eagles across the blue expanse of his eyes, but he would remember none of it.

Tendril in Close Proximity by Blu Wynd Faerie

Rated PG

shriveled rose, petals cracking

i look a little dead

i blame you

here i come, here i come

here i pace, here i pace

here i wait, here i wait

i fling out vines to you

i’m a jilted bride,

starfish left by the tide

benchwarmer on the side

here i’m waiting, but i’m pacing

once you were in the palm of my hand,

now you slip through my fingers like sand

the irony makes me laugh, cry

here i’m waiting, but i’m wasting

you’re evasive, persuasive

it’s hard to hold onto your breeze

you’re much too hard to seize

here i’m waiting, but i’m wilting

water me up, shine on me

blind me so that i might see

you’re the sun, the only one

here i come

here i pace

here i wait, and waste, and wilt

‘til i’m the root alone, clinging still

my tendril is so close

Cold and Unbreathing by Blu Wynd Faerie

Rated PG

watch me fly, watch me roll away

i’m leaving you alone

there are tissues in your hands,

drops like dew in your eyes,

and a frown on your face

just forget me

i’m not worth your tears, lover

dry your eyes and euthanize your kleenex

put away that clown-mask pout

you say i’m your brilliant eagle

i’m your Jesus Christ, superstar,

your wishing star

but watch this bird go catapulting down

this messiah crucified

this comet crash and shatter

this one’s got nothing going for him

watch me as i fall away from you,

undeserving, i’ve learned nothing

and yet too much

futile searching for answers to all the why’s

it leaves me empty

i’m still alone and small

i’m still the next-door neighbor with the glasses,

the one whose name you never could remember

except now my name’s all over your brain,

i hope your mama washes out your mouth with soap

forget my name again, like you once did

yes, i’m undeserving

to have my name on your tongue,

your eyes on my retreating back,

your lips on my own

my breath’s caught in my throat

we can’t inhale, exhale, live this way

so let me go

you must return to oxygen, lover

i’m not worth it

let’s both forget the craving

i apologize for faking it cold

Red Genie by Blu Wynd Faerie

watch your back, lover

someone’s sneaking up behind you

she has a rope and a knowing smile

she’s in hot pursuit

the capture’s brimming on the horizon

it’s me

watch your back, lover

because i’m coming for you

i’m watching you across sandy gold fields

i see you burn crisp and shrivel

cold canteen to your lips

so icy it rings

call me savior

ride on my red steed across the moon

tangled in the ebony veils that you cover yourself with

you’re heat-crazed, fighting me off

screaming with your dry throat

thrashing against my kiss

you never used to surrender

but i’m good for you

open your sky’s eyes, lover

this is everything you asked for

this genie’s wish is your command

try to deny me

you might blaspheme against me

but you’re lying through your teeth

i’ll chase you until you give in to yourself

watch your back, lover

i’m coming for you

you left this rose-colored trail for me to follow

along the desert i come

uncalled but yet i am called

Spare Change by Blu Wynd Faerie

there’s a shadow on your face

i cannot push back this curtain without your hands

the weight of your stare is so heavy

i struggle under the teeming stars

don’t expect me to flower in the dark

stop it

your relentless secretive nature haunts me

your sheathed eyes follow me in my night

distant stalker, you’re too far off for comfort

avoiding me won’t let me grow

crowd my space, please

this stagnant water’s shaking me up

we’re driving on a treadmill, going to nowhere

take me someplace besides imagination

i’m restless from this imitation road trip

drag me along the dusty sands

slip me into your locket

fly me as your rainbow kite

if i blow away in a tornado’s wake,

i’ll fight the current back home

splice me into your genes

make me your eternal tagalong

stitch us together with twine

i’ll always be the pocket change

always where you least expect me

unending, shining silver,

scattered through your car, your room,

your life

you cannot ever spend me

Hissing by Blu Wynd Faerie

i’ve been strung like clotheslines across an alley

i’ve been the cash expected to pay for far too much

i’ve been the crying shoulder for a million people

i can only stretch so far,

so long

don’t expect too much more of me

if you pluck me, i sound like a guitar

this cord’s on the point of snapping, whiplashing

i’m tired and fragile like porcelain, so breakable

cat’s playing with the yarn

it’s unraveling, undone,

sprawled on the wet tiles like a dying fish

the oxygen’s inaccessible

you cannot push me anymore

it stings to be a failure

this favor on your lips is too much

your tongue’s beckon requires so much strain

you’re strumming me and i’m a sad song

all the strings are broken

sounds like dying cats

hissing and spitting

Her Fantasy Rejected by Blu Wynd Faerie

lips to lips, palms to palms

spiraling heavenward in this tumble

strewn between ecstasy and exhilaration

a million stars singing out my name,

drowned out by your whisper

i wake to find myself tangled in my sheets

alone and cold and crushed

eyes and smiles crack the ice

i taste your heartbeat in the air

i can hear the ringing of father time’s bells

as they chime of futures palpable

electricity through every atom of my being

i find myself asleep on the couch

photographs scattered around me

the smell that lingers is your own

invading me, intoxicating, sleep-inducing

with glittering eyes i see you pass

your subjugation of me is invigorating

your essence lures me to another horizon

i startle to realize i have been daydreaming

my fantasy is only that

blues and reds surround me

lost in your gaze, i envelope this emotion

lose me, take me, keep me

do not surrender but crystallize me

as if i were the most precious, rare blossom

i realize that you are breaking from my stare

i weep

Dialog Between Two Puppets by Bluie

Rated PG

i, the interrogator, sit with ankles latched

i demand to understand the universe

i start at the center with you

though not power-hungry,

i thirst for something more

than this puppet charade

i need an explanation

i have been sheathed in night

i have cloaked myself in mystery

if you wish to strip me to my core

make haste

peeling off my layers

burns like acid fire on my bones

try to learn me inside and out

if you can

but question me, and i shall play the mute puppet

for the answers even evade me

i comprehend nothing

just beyond my grasp lies eden’s fruit,

the source of all knowledge

i’m coming up short again in this cycle

speak now

forever holding your peace is not an option

the tears run hot in frustration

lover, speak with those lush lips

which i admire from much too far away

you beg me to do the impossible

you’ve come to that final point

you venture into deep, damp valleys

of which there is no return

and i trail out of your pocket

i find myself lost in my own mouth,

the replies unformed

i cannot bring myself to break your spirit

i refuse to reveal the shattering secret

to crush me is to deceive me

to crack me is to stay this way

with hidden words under your tongue

eating away at your mouth

straining to invade my ears

grace me with the truth, i plead,

if you lie through your teeth

i can smell it

your persistence is undying

you are the never-withering rose

i hope your patience curls up and perishes

that your temptations cease to throb in me

that your eyes no longer follow my movements

satiny words and fish hooks are my demise

and your own

for me to speak would be your suicide

to wither under your sun would be pleasant

i’d rather run the guillotine

than suffer unknowing

starbursts release, ready to pop

when i explode on you,

each of my pieces holds your name

and a large blue question mark

in the hue of your eyes

taint me not with stupidity and ignorance

you would be happier to have been born blind

this vivacious character you play

she is too strong for her own good

you refuse to play naïve to emotion

if you could,

you would receive eternal life

and you forget my wish is not the rest of time

but i long for you

you forget that your secret has been spilled

through the deadness of silence

i have found the fruit

with black holes and explosions in my palm

for you i fear

this interrogator has triumphed

i cannot understand you

i cannot avoid you

and i cannot remain

i cannot decide what to feel,

how to breathe

i know not if your air will kill me

or lure me into the gates of heaven

when i have doubt,

i vanish, untrusting

i will haunt you if you flee

yes, in fantasy, there you will be

i am glad to know i am engraved

upon that hard shell that is your heart

i will make a bronze cast of that device

and ponder it for all of time

the day i discover its design

will be the day you discover yourself

the stage curtain closes

and i have never been more closely acquainted with


The Fuel

so we sought to reap, to keep,

and yet we found nothing

sprouting from the everything we planted

undeniably, it’s ill fate

we still hesitate with supposed good reason

but i find myself craving the mistake

i would not bid you good riddance ever,

though you shove me off a thousand red cliffs,

i rather plead your staying here,

folded under the refuge of this mother willow

where i can watch you sleep, lost in distant dreams

cherishing this last moment

before the path’s fork breaks,

i sob out for simplicity that i am unfamiliar with

i discover the awkwardness of being close to you

to be oddly comforting,

though a foil to my womanly independence

i grudgingly release you,

recalling days when you’d feared this moment

my breath catches, knotting

slipping loose the noose,

yet tightening my exhalation

so much time, so much given

so much spent only to vanish

it feels all wasted and dry, like old letters

i am calculating the numbers,

the cash, the blood, and the hours,

and i see i received no profits from the deal –

perhaps it’s better this way? -

but i feel emptier now that it’s off

now i sit with crumpled notes in my hands,

holding cut strings, an unfinished puzzle,

which i never will complete

i cannot understand why you refuse to finish it with me,

though i’ve explained it to myself

the chords make webs across the marble floor,

along the fabric over my legs,

the snares which i tangled myself in by chance,

which fed hungrily on me

until the bones within crumbled

and the lonely poison lingers here,

still working like acid

life is merciless

what to expect?

you were tangled, too

and you’re sorry for it all

i’m regretless of what’s been,

all that anger and rusted red,

and hardly bitter about what you took

i can shed it all, and become nothing

and all that matters

is that i’m still something to you

that’s the fuel

Redhead’s Stuttering, Desperate Monologue

fate brought us together so many times before

so it is hardly suspicious to haphazardly meet you here

and yet, fate has ripped us into a thousand pieces

so i make haste,

not knowing if i will have the breath to speak again

i fear choking

well, lover, we have ridden a storm, black as night

skeletons screamed and clawed from black waters

but we lived it up, held on, watched it pass us with a winking glance

i almost recall us laughing in the face of the reaper,

whose dark form was intimidating, but manageable

we didn’t resist, and didn’t we make it?

pause, and let it sink in, i plead

believe it

aren’t i still here, looking into your eyes,

trying to scrutinize you and hoping you can’t deny,

mumbling a thousand prayers, biting my lip,

shrinking back from rejection, my stinging red welt,

yet lustful enough to let myself scar a few times?

when black stallions trampled down our roots,

hooves crashing down and ripping us to shreds,

didn’t we ride them, too?

when the sun dried us into flakes and we crumbled,

becoming nothing more than meaningless sand grains,

didn’t we fall on the same soil?

the universe burned us and ate us alive,

but we went together

and somehow, that was enough for me

i can’t explain

forgive me, i don’t make much sense

it’s hard to cough out all that i want to say

and i’m trying to be quick,

because it looks like you might run away,

like a skittish horse with a lightning streak across his face

deities above, i plea that you restore us,

even if it will perhaps destroy us

and i will ask nothing more

for the risk is present, as always,

and all things are conquerable

flaring orange tigers lie in wait to tackle the walls of stone

but wait, i have not finished

spare me that pained, familiar look in your blue eyes

do you think i would speak to you to only reminisce?

this is the old church revival of yore

i find myself at the pulpit, a saintly preacher,

slamming down my fist, spelling out the law,

as forceful as the cocked gun, or penetrating glare,

praising the lord, knowing that the kingdom is now

for god’s sake, lover, it’s now

we’re now

let that flourish like wildflowers, wildfires

a worldly sacrifice indeed

i’m tossing it all away, letting the drain suck it up thirstily

i’ll run naked, homeless, starving, but nonetheless, still alive

clothed, housed, fed by your skin

you need do nothing but stand there and let me hold you

so i might relish the beauty of the sensation of touch,

the beauty of unity, oneness,

the completeness of feeling useful and loved,

that’s all i need

the word’s upon you

too much to bear, is it?

don’t be afraid to love me, though i’m scared too

i don’t bite

i suppose it’s overwhelming to know i’ll fall with you

but i’m coming down, unstoppable

try to charm me out of this one

smoothly following with red ribbons outstretched,

a magnet to you, i am drawn

run far, run hard, and i am behind you,

attempting to be the savior for you,

as you were for me so many times

i am still clinging to a pale, still, pulse-less wrist

i refill your veins will all of your secrets,

which i know better than i know my own

you are my obsession, my idol

my torment and self-crucifixion

bleeding me out

it’s reciprocal

you feed, i feed

and we both, somehow, end up filled

the chalices overflow

shouldn’t it be like that?

i can’t say that i’m perfect,

so much falls short and i fumble on the last down,

losing all control, finding myself surprisingly weak

but i’d like to try and pull through for you

chance it, please

i ask of you with all of myself

could you let yourself?

it is so hard to unleash yourself, i know,

the shackles are familiar, at least,

while i am uncharted, weird, alien territory,

my terrain frightening

let’s adventure, ride it together

please, let us be something

i beg you in this stuttering, desperate monologue,

would you, could you,

find a place in the whirlwind of your black hole for us?

Last Piece of the Last Puzzle

i’m confronted, helpless, gasping for oxygen

i’m scrambling to get out of the cage,

hands sliding up to nowhere, gripping air

hearing the wretched sound of nails scratching,

terror on my breath, lips, in my shattered irises

it’s still a dead end with a rugged cliff

my eyes fall down it,

shrieking as they collide with rusty earth

you’re shaking the bars

mercilessly tearing up everything i crystallized,

forcing your way into the turtle shell,

your face glinting with a hurt expression,

not comprehending what i’ve done

you weren’t supposed to

you surprised me

the aftershock leaves a tingle

it’s drawing us away


there’s only so much room inside my globe

a space for you, but not me, too

so i leave you with this vague shadow of myself,

a haunting that cannot fill the shoes

that’s all that fits in my single box

i know you’re trying to crack it

you remember so much shared,

how much we loved, how it rushed,

a million golden coins overflowing

like waterfalls lit by radiant neon lights,

i can see the treasure in your hands, glimmering,

passing over elegant fingers

capture it, coddle it like a little child

that sensation is all that’s left for us

i’m sorry

remember me as i am now

we’re parting ways

your eyes are like niagara falls

i cannot take the plunge

i’m breathless

if i never see you again,

i love you

wincing, i sting, laced in wounds

i’m walking away, feeling tired eyes on my back,

the sound of fingertips swiping at me rings silver chimes

i’m hearing you fall and keep falling,

listening to your hair brush into your face and eyes

but you never hit ground

and the puddles of your sobs drip down my neck,

making black burn marks that rub away self-control

i can’t comprehend it

lost, i whirl, and you’re sprawled on the marble

that’s how it can’t be

and that’s how it is

i must stay back

this is what i swore to do

i am a statue

cold, hard, unmoving, lips frozen purple

with the words caught in my throat

i’m sorry

for the both of us

the choices vanish, leaving me speechless

confused, i wonder how i ended up so small,

so pitiful, so clumsy, so heartless

i’m left with the option of killing or killing

would i let the world break you open

like a coconut shell, splattering your juices?

or should allow you to perish at my own paralyzed hands?

i threaten you with my presence and my absence

something snapping whether i leave you or stay

it’s a wicked snare

either way, you’re doomed, like me

i’m dizzy and sick at the notion

now i see why we belong

yes, you’re a goddess,

exhaling life into me, waking me from a drugged slumber

with cautious hands, we drag ourselves to our feet

it’s my fault we fell in the first place

whispering hesitantly in your ear,

my breath catches and my heart beat quickens,

for i suddenly feel fuller than ever before in my brief life,

as if the last piece of the last puzzle has clicked into place

something surrenders – perhaps my control? -

and, in an instant, ecstasy takes me over

everything else vanishes

i am possessed by you, holding you

we melt together,

becoming a twisted puddle, formless

i’m lost in your essence

and i don’t want to find myself again

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