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For MichaelAt this moment, if I could,
I would wrap my arms around you
and tell you that it's ok to cry. That
everything is alright, that everything is as it should be.
I would tell you that it's ok to be afraid.
I would let your tears fall,
look you in the eyes, and smile at you.
I would tell you that life will go on, and that
one day, you will be reunited,
no matter where your belief's lie.
I would tell you what you already know,
that she loves you,
that she will always be with you,
that she is no longer suffering.
And you will feel her close by
with you at all times. Because
she is part of you. And you are part of her.
You are her son, the one
that made her eyes sparkle,
made her face light up,
made her smile.
But there is no way to force these things
into your head. It's your heart that's grieving.
I know that your heart
is cold and blue, and choked with tears and confusion.
So all I will do is tell you that I love you,
and eventually, although it may seem like life will
never be the same,
The Ashes of my DreamsThose are the ashes of my dreams,
Floating on the wind as time passes by.
Sitting and waiting
As moonbeams softly fall through the sky,
Cutting my flesh like tiny daggers and
Landing gently on the ground below.
Recycled blood just like recycled dreams,
Just like recycled words and thoughts and stories.
And I stare up at the sun as if waiting for some answers
And my blindness leaves me crying out of empty eyes.
Darkness is the light,
Only then will I be able to sleep.
Rest eternally, find my thoughts,
Thoughts on paper,
Ramblings all the same.
Menacing words, hiding within me and keeping me awake.
And it's never good enough,
Only good enough to hate.
The Value of LifeWhile shopping for groceries, my friend and I rounded a corner and bore witness to some confused commotion down one of the food isles. A woman walking towards us held up her hands and splayed them about six inches apart; "It was this big!" She stammered, talking to another customer.
It was a mouse. Or perhaps a rat. I wouldn't be able to find out. Because as we parked the cart, I walked over just in time to see something get kicked into a box, and although my mind was thinking 'wow, that's great! The rodent will be taken outside and away!' It seems that my optimistic thinking was just me, because a customer decided that he would rather kill it than have it saved: he dropped a box of firewood on it.
What was left was a small red smear; it looked like some sort of paint or liquid candy concoction, as 'clean up on isle six' boomed over the loudspeakers.
'Clean up on isle six' was repeated over the intercom more than once, as one of the employees stood watch to make sure that no
Untitled ObservationTo one side of me, my right,
A woman waits for her two nieces to come from the salon.
She paces back and forth, an unlit cigarette sitting in her designer bag.
I had no light to give her.
To my left, a Starbucks, a group of young adults sit in a circle,
The summer breeze carrying their youthful laughter
And caressing their sun-kissed skin.
And me in the middle, my blue hair tussled and ruffled – no 'hair-do' there, just self.
My sunglasses reflecting the surrounding vehicles
I can see through them,
But you can't see me.
Break-up"So, I wanted to talk to you about us."
I lean forward. I've heard that leaning forward really engages a person to listen to you.
"I think that we rushed into things a little too fast."
He's staring at me. I can see his eyes are watering.
"I want you to know that I think you're an amazing person, and I feel so honored that you want to be with me. You've got everything, you know? You're the perfect guy. I just think that we rushed into things a little too quickly."
"Ok." He begins to fiddle around with the straw sticking out of his coffee cup. The silence is killing me. I know that sometimes silence is a good thing, but not now.
"This really sucks, I know," I look away for a moment. It's killing me, really, because I can see that he wants to cry. I want to cry. It hurts me to hurt him. I really don't like hurting people. I've been in this situation before, except I was in his spot. I was the one being dumped, and my dumper, I suppose you could call him, was probably a thousand mil
When beautiful things go unnoticed,
when beautiful things are ignored,
when beautiful things are dying,
there may not be one to save them.
When beautiful things are crying,
when beautiful things will die,
when beautiful things are diving,
there may not be one to hold them back.
But I caught this beautiful thing,
and I kept her from dying,
though she was hell-bent on her ending,
I held this beautiful thing in my arms.
And she closed her eyes in wonder,
at the world I pulled her into,
as she now was as visible as a spirit,
but as immortal as legend.
For she was now my Keeper,
and I held her in my arms,
and she kissed my cheek as I held her,
and all I could do was blush.
When beautiful things touch your soul,
there is no accustomed way to act,
and I felt my heart beat one with hers,
and I cared nothing of the rest.
For a beautiful thing had touched my soul,
like nothing ever had before,
and she wished to hold me longer,
and I wished to hold her forever.
I locked my heart in a mahogany box and threw away the key.
There was no one to care for - there was nothing left for me.
My heart had ceased beating long ago
after years of misery and pain.
Through countless highs and lecherous lows
I became immune to pounding rain.
I walked without even my shadow as a friend.
Numb to all emotions that surfaced to my skin.
Knowing I would be alone to the bitter end
suffering the consequences of sin.
I was shunned and shamed -
bruised and maimed.
No one cared - no one knew.
No one bothered to change my view.
My life was a silent movie
of a language no one spoke.
With plenty of plot holes for all to see
and an ending of mirrors and smoke.
It was getting hard to catch my breath.
Surely death would be oh so sweet.
Addicted to the thought like Crystal Meth,
it skipped through my head like an erratic beat.
She stumbled upon a key that washed up on the shore.
Wondering what it could unlock.
Determined to solve the riddle and explor
RoseThe greatest romance
Lies in your deep crimson color
Your many petals
Softer than skin
Your sharp thorns
Cause me to bleed
My love for you is infinite
The pain you cause me
Is a pleasure
You may be just a flower
But your beauty
Knows no rival
You AreI am the moon,
And you are the sun,
I pale in comparison to you.
I am a student,
And you are a professor.
I cant keep up with you.
I am a snowflake,
And you are a blizzard,
I will never be like you.
I am a tree,
And you are a fire,
You can destroy me easily.
I am a star,
And you are the universe.
You are simply my everything.
Locks of LoveI haven't cut my hair
Since just before
I walked across the stage
Sixteen months ago.
I grew it out
Because, last summer, you loved
To run your fingers
Through its coppery threads.
That always made me feel
When you left for school again in August,
I couldn't bring myself
To get a haircut.
What if you came back,
And this time, my heart was ready for you?
Mid-semester, you told me that,
While you and your friends
Built your school's bonfire,
It was customary
That no one cut his hair
Or even shaved
Until the structure was finished.
I don't think I told you
That I let mine continue to grow
In your honor, except
I didn't cut it on Burn Day.
When we kissed on Christmas Eve,
You weaved your fingers
Through my silken locks
And made me feel beautiful once more.
I still didn't cut my hair,
Even after you left in March,
Save for the split ends
I trimmed in May,
Hoping to eradicate negative energy
But not wanting to let go of you.
Now it's September.
I shrug into Harry's shirt
underneath my autumn scarf--
cologne on the cuffs bringing
color as I close my eyes,
the brown of his hair,
laughter, pine green.
Fingers on marbled buttons
smooth as the cream
he puts in his chai.
I think of him like rain on a Sunday,
a slow breath uttered in calm,
eyes shut to listen,
he is peace,
stability in grayer moments.
He is the space in my empty bed
I ache for him the way
I crave prayer and
the feel of a rosary.
Epiphanyhearken when healing
from the hurt of love hamstrung
the hander of the handkerchief
may be your heart’s hope
If I Were A Love PoetFor my Laban. For my love.
Sometimes, often enough
when my thoughts are consumed
with you- I find myself wishing
that I was a love poet.
Wouldn’t it be beautiful
to piece words together so artistically
that I could make people understand
what it’s like to miss hands
that have never held me?
Wouldn’t it be the damnedest thing,
if I could make a stranger
know how it feels to kiss you?
Sweetly, passionately, softly
Hesitantly- and yet all at once?
Even though their lips have never met yours,
Even though our lips have never met.
How lovely would it be
to sanely, yet romantically
explain to my parents what it’s like
to fall asleep with you?
We could tell them how you giggle when I beg you
to be the big spoon- because I feel like it’s to much responsibility.
We could tell them about the sleepy kisses you give me
at 3 a.m when you find me searching for
togetherburningi love him and it seems like
we are all coming together
in this wide
him all lanky arms and
open spaces – electric skin – power
line veins catch
ing fire against
the golden grass
lim b s
arms spreading some
big togetherburning sky-bridge
him and me and
Some kind of frightful skinandblush
how i love him, how, i
how i love the cacophony
of our time
To Love a HedgehogI
A hedgehog in the winter,
straw against the wind.
While the heart is warm
its feet are cold.
A hedgehog all alone,
his heart is full of love,
overflowing like sun with warmth,
in the blistering cold.
But to love a hedgehog
is a task for none.
As his love is felt
through the tips of spines.
One day a fox came by
underneath her failing fur
there was hidden heart of gold.
Warm and kind - despite the cold.
“Little hedgehog”, said the fox,
“you straw against the wind
why are you alone
in this uncaring cold?”
“Dear fox” replied our little friend
“My heart is warm
with dreams of love
I don't feel the cold.”
“But little one! What is love
without a friend?
My fur is scant and failing,
but it's warmer than the snow!”
“Go away... my love is pain
felt through the tips of spines
drawing blood; precious warmth
red against the silent snow.”
“But love is pain...
the pain we share together”
and thus they cuddled
The CoJoined SplitIt was the strangest thing
Sitting at my computer,
Room fairly cleared out,
Alanis Morissette blaring out of my computer,
And he walks in uninvited,
Just as she's singing about it.
And memories blend with reality –
Out of my peripheral vision
I saw half him and half him.
But that's all it was – a blending of two things.
Two things joined
Two things apart.
Together and splitting.
I had the mental image that it was
Him, not just him.
That's just the way it was.
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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