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some things are meant to be brokeni snatch at dog-eared love letters,
molded and mashed together into
a string of mismatched desires,
revolving around you.
love is a dystopia—-the never-ending cycle
of unrequited i-love-yous,
little white lies,
and carpe diem whispering,
“life is too short.”
we romanticize the beating heart,
if it walks pretty and talks pretty
it’s obviously a strung-up puppet but—-
—-just maybe you can sew him up, the craft
of needle and thread to stitch a real boy.
i breathe against the windowpane,
tracing tales of the boy with wild eyes
and a wicked heart on the frozen mosaic glass
framed by the need to save you.
when it’s over i’ll morph
into a hollow shell of a girl, waiting
for a starry-eyed boy to
wish me back to life and—-
—-just maybe we can be real together.
Our Wings Flutter And SingOur Wings Flutter And Sing
my feet graze texas plains
southern currents hitting my back
and my body is left
as my soul follows what feels right.
my arms spread wide,
eyes closed and
i let the thought take me away.
i love this cliche
because i have wings with you.
i can fly because of you.
and no matter how many times
i scribble your name as a title of this poem,
i can never mutter it enough
because i’m addicted
to how it rolls off my tongue.
i miss you when i wake up,
when i sleep, when i dream,
because at least there
i wave in the morning
and kiss you through the night.
even departures there feels like
i’m leaving my home
to return to my house.
i think of you first and last,.
of your yawn and laugh,
how you scrunch your nose
and your little grin
even when you try to refuse it.
and i know you hate smiling in pictures,
but i make it my mission
to make you smile as much as possible.
i love how you keep your hair to one side
with the part in the middle.
i love how the l
of goodbyeyour eyes
are painted with the saddest
I have ever seen
with the shade of sunset
and its tangerine gleam
those eyes, my love
are painted with
the colour of
if we were to never speak again.In silence absolute
I almost forgot you,
I almost remembered to forget
you, lonely afternoon
of naked breath,
the softness of sunset
as it rakes along my skin.
The nonchalance of the sky
almost unbearably falters
an outbreak of tears
weigh down my hair
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
eyes blinking through the rain
glimpses of turquoise-
blue souls dancing, but
not quite entwined.
claws into my brows,
furrows the flesh
rivulets of thought
that tear through my nervous system
cellular tinnitus, reverberations
in my spinal column,
raising mountains from
my body, darklight clouds
ghosting in the peripheries
of my vision
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
a lyrical tattoo
of ripened countryside
a vibrant concerto
washed between us
tidal colour drowning,
from your sweet humour
to my aching sternum
the cliffs fall away
and autumn breaks in upon us,
auburn sorrows of light
I Write to a Lover Who Doesn't ExistYou must've noticed how I was left bleeding
Because all you could do was stare
At me with those gemstones you call eyes.
We danced around bookshelves in the mystery section
Pretending not to notice each other
And ignoring the fact that our eyes kept meeting.
I wonder now that if we'd danced in the romance section
Would we have still ignored that part of ourselves?
And after all, aren't mysteries ment to be solved?
You must wash your hair with sunflower petals and pomegranate seeds
Because your aroma is that of a goddess
And I was attracted to you as quickly
As if you had called my name.
Would you call my name?
And would you say yours as well
Because although I have a feeling you go by Aphrodite,
We have not yet acquainted ourselves.
AdulationI can't take a breath
without thinking about you
when I do
it takes my breath away
every day my love for you
grows more intense
my need for you
you are as vital to me
as air and water
a smile from you
sends me to nirvana
saps my strength
every waking moment
is spent thinking of you
revolves around you
nothing makes me feel
so happy and alive
as being with you
you give so much
my heart, soul, loyalty
are all I have to offer
these you have
want them or not
I am so in love with you
my only fear on this earth
is that of you leaving me
my world would crumble
but with you near
I can survive anything
BellsNote how we've never really touched,
how only our elbows grazed each other in the darkened theatre.
No intentions, never;
only accidentals that skewered the phrase.
But darling, if I have ever not craved your chewed down fingernails grazing my cheek,
the memory has been long lost in a time of happier melodies.
thuggish loverno more on love. tell me
instead of the hearts you've
beaten, and the way
they kept on
UntitledAs the eyes of a demon run swiftly down your curvaceous figure
As the hands of a demon stroke your soft body, soft as a whisper
As the nose of a demon breathes in your wild scent,
As the lips of a demon gently kiss your cheek, so content
Your intelligent, glowing eyes mesmerize him, whisking him away into another creation
The softness of you on his body makes his breathing quicken
Your nose nuzzling his face reddens his face, your breathing a vibration
He pulls you into his arms and holds you in a soft embrace
You return the favor of curling into him, stopping all time and space
He pets your feline body and you purr, purr, purr...
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More