Wrote this in about thirty minutes this morning, then realized how well it fitted with Annie and edited it a bit. Depending on how many reviews I get, I'll try to update pretty often. I was just tired of hearing people dismiss Annie as someone who doesn't have that great of a thought process, because it is my belief that she would have to be a very insightful person to be able to deal with all she's been through.

Anyways, enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Your name is a whisper on my lips.

In those precious times when it is just you and me. When no one is around to hear, and I get to see the side of you that you keep a secret. How you really are.

In those times when my lips are centimeters from your ear, and you smile because my breathe tickles your skin.

Your name is an echo in my dreams.

Dreams of a better world where our love is free, and neither of us have to carry a burden for it. Where there is no one around to stop us and everyone can see how gentle you are. How you treat me.

Dreams where your lips can crash upon mine and claim me on that special day, and you laugh that mystical laugh of yours because my heart forever belongs to you.

Your name is an etching in my heart.

In a deep place where it will always be. Where nobody can scratch it out, and I can hold it so close to my soul. My soul which is tied to yours.

A place where the spark your lips send through me can be felt, and you give me that knowing look of yours because you see what you do to me. How you make me feel.

But to others...

Your name is a controversial topic.

In the articles that the so-called admirers read. The ones that take you from me and burst the seams in my heart, coming back from some thousand-dollar night and creating this image of a superficial Casanova. Telling the world that's who you are.

However, I know it's just an act. An obligation. Just another way you sacrifice yourself for me. Yes, they don't know it, but it's nothing more than an act.

The real you has a gentle touch that comforts me when I'm scared. Scared that the terrors I am trying to forget will try to reclaim me. And I won't be able to push them away. Your touch, your strong arms that have been lethal in the past, cherish me. They convey this silent guarantee that you won't ever let me get hurt again.

The real you has deep, loving eyes that dance when you laugh. Laugh at the simplest things in life, which you have to cling to in order to stay sane. Unlike me. Your eyes, the way you look at me; it shows me that you care about my happiness.

There are so many things about you that I treasure deeply, and grasp onto for all they are worth, because I know I don't deserve you. I am broken beyond repair. But really, I suppose you are too.

Your name. It's a whisper. An echo. An etching.