A/N: I haven't written anything in a while, because college and health problems. But I got bored in the hospital, so I wrote a Tokka poem. I haven't finished Korra yet so it may not be within the realm of canon, I don't know.
Barefoot, running down the sidewalk.
She had waited so long. Too long.
Cement roughness on the soul.
Now he had a wife. A /wife/. A pretty—
Perfect wife;
A Water Tribe girl. No more
Suki. Someone who could
/see/
Glass shards and blood spots.
But he had kissed her.
Sokka-the-Good, with the
Perfect wife, had kissed /her/
Words whisper on the wind, smacking calves, thighs.
He had tasted like sea noodles and salt
Lips hot and cold at the same time
Messy, imperfect, /right/
She didn't want to think—
How he kissed his wife
Honey/baby/sweetheart/whore
Lips brushed against her neck
Legs wrapped around his waist
Shameless in a corner
Out of sight,
Out of mind
Until she woke
Honey/baby/sweetheart/whore
Sunshine slipped through her fingers
She never says good-bye