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I Envy All That Touches You
Five poems that span The Hunger Games trilogy.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Hunger Games
I.
I Envy All That Touches You
Peeta Mellark before the Reaping for the 74thAnnual Hunger Games
(The Hunger Games)
I envy all that touches you -
The wind that meanders through
The roughly wrought rope of your braid;
The forest dew and meadow mist
That rest upon the salty sweat
Of your twilight skin;
The bowstring you caress
With your unlady-like fingers
Flexing in wait for some unwitting beast.
And when the hapless thing is in your sight
You release the pointed arrow.
And now I know true hatred,
As the shaft skims the pads of your tiny fingers,
As it is stroked by the pads of your tiny fingers.
In a daydream, I am that ill-fated prey,
The taut, unyielding string that will bend only for you,
The sweat that covers your dimples and bruises,
The dewy forest mist that smells of you,
The wind that unravels your braid and sets you free.
II.
This is My Trouble
Katniss Everdeen, Quarter Quell – 74thAnnual Hunger Games
(Catching Fire)
This is my trouble-
As if the word "trouble" did not describe
The very arc of my existence-
That it is too easy to love you;
Effortless,
Like floating in my father's lake;
Lazy,
Like the mindless swaying of tall grasses
In our dandelion meadow.
You were chosen for me,
In the games we were forced to play;
But if free will makes us human
Then I am no better than a machine -
A bird-like symbol that would unstick from this page
And fly away.
I begrudge even the commonest girl
Her freedom to love and rage.
I did not choose you,
And yet if I were given the choice, I would.
Pride like viscous painter's glue
Stills my heart, slows
The inexorable climbing of my soul
Towards yours.
You were chosen for me,
So I dared notchoose you
And yet when given the choice, I do.
III.
The Pendulum Swings
Peeta Mellark – Capitol City – Mockingjay Rebellion
(Mockingjay)
The pendulum swings-
Venom in, venom out-
Friend, Enemy-
Lover, Murderer-
Baked, Unbaked-
Loved, loving, love her.
Last night, I wrote the saddest song-
I could not use my fingers-
Captive arms full of insect juice-
I wrote a song with my eyes instead-
With muttering lips-
Whatever I could move-
I wrote a song, half sung-
About a creature, half thing-
A beast that tried to kill me-
That would kill me-
That had already killed me.
I pulled back their shiny curtain, peered behind
Those fanged teeth and gleaming grey-black eyes.
I wrote of someone primitive, noble, complicated, pure.
I envied her voice which cradled my song.
Her name roils my stomach, births terror in my veins.
And yet, and yet-
I still taste the humid jungle on her lips.
IV.
I Have No Words Left For Them
Katniss Everdeen – Capitol City – Training Center
(Mockingjay)
I have no words left for them.
They started with my name-
No longer nourishing,
I was left to burn
Till we were all full of ashes;
Then my image-
Plucking feathers from my wings
Until dressed like a bird, I could no longer fly;
Tunneling through my skin, down to the bone –
So that not even my bow belonged to me;
Sucking on the blood and muscle
As they surveyed the topography of my heart,
They stabbed me -
Once for the boy with the bread,
Once for boy with the snares.
When they finally reached her,
They crushed the land to bloody sinews
And blew her to the heavens.
But still they were not finished
Until I had no choice but to hand over my soul,
Impaled through the center by a bloody arrow
On a frozen balcony in Winter.
It was then that I envied the dead.
I have no more words left for them.
And so in search of myself
I sing.
V.
Open Spaces
Peeta Mellark – District 12 – Post-Rebellion
(Mockingjay)
The night you asked me to stay with you
I embraced you loosely,
Fearing I would crush you
With my ecstasy-
We never slept alone again.
I held you in that way through countless terrors,
Firmly, solidly but with open spaces
So our sad spirits would not suffocate
And, in the desperation of our grief,
Flee into the midnight woods.
Because we'd been invaded long enough.
Sometimes, in the confines of our mortal lives
It is the space to be that we most long for
When everything that once held meaning is crowded out.
Slowly, I let you draw me in,
Like the bright colored fish of your lake.
I inhabit the emptiness borne
Of more pain than the world can contain.
Soon, you become a loosely drawn caricature
In my hand-
Warm, scarred skin made bright by meteors
And stars that rise on the horizon of my fingers.
You are bathed in starlight
And I envy all that touches you
Until I have no choice but to cross the empty chasm,
The open spaces that were forced between us
And possess you-
To fill the jagged outlines of your constellation,
Trace the dashes of your star-studded body.
When my artist-finger stills,
All is quiet.
I am floating in uncertainty,
Begging to be called back
From the precipice of dark matter.
"You love me, Real or not real?"
Your "Real"
Pulls us both from the edge of the void-
Filled with dark, brittle spirits,
The rattled, raging bones of the dead-
And makes us whole again.
A million thanks to SolaVioletta for her wonderful beta-ing and consulation. You are a gem!
