spear collar

“Is that my shirt?” (reylo drabble for @thestolenrelic)

“Is that my shirt?” Ben asks, furrowing his brow at Rey as she sits cross-legged on the couch with textbooks scattered around her and what looks like about a dozen highlighters on her person, behind her ears, between her teeth, clipped to her collar, speared through her bun. He’s getting test anxiety just looking at her.
She glances up, frowning at him and taking a moment to process his words before responding around the highlighter still clutched between her teeth. “I thought it was Finn’s?”
“No, I borrowed it from Poe,” says Finn, glancing over at his friend from the other side of the room.
“And Poe definitely stole it from me,” Ben concludes.
“Sorry,” Rey says, already focused back on her books. “You can’t have it back yet, it’s incredibly comfortable and I’m on the verge of a stress-based emotional breakdown so if you try to take it I will go for the jugular.”
Ben ducks his head, trying to hide the grin that spreads over his face, backing out of the room before he does something stupid like tell her she’s cute or kiss her. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

longingly/lovingly snapped
collar bone spears in our hearts,
for all the times we spoke without
pools of blood in our mouths,
like i swallowed the sun and burned,
you picked thorns from fresh rose
bushes, to feel a pain we never felt-
never left, our taste for destruction
but our tender arms gave way with
the endurance of a war that didn’t begin;
we, once from holy lands, now fallen soldiers
with flightless arrows and heavy chests;
no cuts and bruises to show for it-
just the unfathomable aches of what we
couldn’t be and how we’ll be buried with it.