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Before MeWhat's more beautiful?
The over radiant glow of your
skin or your dressed down soul?
The way I pant and sweat in desire,
the way you ignite my body with erotic fire?
Am I lost in your eyes again or are we
going together in sin to that place
I love? Did you know you were more
than eternity, more than enough to
I can't bear such an explosive entity
before me. Yet here you are.
Terror on TopThere is nothing I want more, nothing I desire more strongly than to feel you below me, asking me, begging me, to continue. Your need is stronger than your desire, and I can feel every ounce of that need enveloping me, swallowing my ability to control, to stop my shaking senses. I inhale, searching for your fear, but chocking on my own. Are you ready to be told, to be sold into slavery of my heart? I don't know where my hands go, except feeling them around your neck, fingers slipping into their nooks with force. My hands are home. I don't know whose really in control, but I feel you slipping away, I continue to ride the waves, each thrust causing my anger to rise, I hear you cry out, I want you to scream for me to stop, only to be drown by my fingers, stinging your face. I taste your sweat, I place dirty wagers on whose going to cum first, inside my head of course. I don't want you to know. I just want to hear you say please. Fuck, I am so terrified.
There Was This Girl...... and she was alone, in the quiet of the womb. She waited anxiously for the great happening to pass so she could finally see love. It burned inside her. There was this girl that thought so frequently of love that she convinced herself that that was actually what she had been created from. Love.
There was this girl that made it through the great happening, saw love for the first time. So she thought. As suddenly as it appeared, it had withdrawn from her. There was this girl that wondered why the great happening had to be so painful. Where did love go?!? She felt it withdrawing from her, leaving her trembling, naked, screaming. There was this girl that saw lights and faces and heard sounds and felt cold, wet, felt shivers for the first time. She could smell the heat of the moment, the sweat pouring from her body and from the Ones body as well. But through it all, she could not feel it, she could not find love. There was this girl that had been born into the absence of love.
There was t
IntensityThe darkness caresses me, ebony rainbows silently flowing.
Your touch, like the brush of Butterfly wings on unseen things,
Ignites something darkly inside me and I wait. I attempt to
Call our your name, to ask to be saved, to give into grace.
But the world around me collapses and fades, and all this
From the mere embrace of your finger tips.
I inhale one last time and right before I start to die,
you return to me with your fire and ice, once,
then twice, you revive me. You engulf my body and we
fall away to the sea, just the stars and the trees and all
of eternity escaping from your hands. I attempt to be stable
but sinking sands are over come, my heart and my breath
are on the run, can not be caught, because I am being taught what
it means to find euphoria.
I am reaching hysteria and then when it seems I will find defeat,
our eyes meet and you smile. Your skin brings forth the softness
of moss in the moonlight, the power Of a single candle in the sunl
Hiking BootsI thought of you today, while walking, in moments of sunshine admits
All this grey. I thought of ways I could say what's been keeping
Me up at night. The things I fear, the things I like. The things
I can't keep in sight for very long. Because without a notice or
A farewell song, they are gone from me.
In a moment of solidarity, I took a path divided in three.
I just wanted to wander, I wanted to see. I wanted to be
Missed for one fleeting moment. I wanted you , I wanted
Something. I wanted the stars to die and for you and I
And everything I loved to be gathered into one place.
I imagined all of eternity's beauty in a single space
And he was standing right in front of my eyes. I neither
Took for granted nor seemed surprised. I simply smiled.
I kept walking, but not for very long. Because in this moment, in
the sunshine and the farewell song, I realized with a start, right where I belong.
Can We?Can you sit a while with me? There is something I need to tell you.
I have been trying for 24 years to get through to the other side,
To finally have a release and find peace in solidarity. To realize my purpose
And find clarity. But I think I have been bidding my time until now.
With my eyes adverted towards to ground I stand before you naked and
Vulnerable, waiting for you to turn the table. Waiting for you to realize you
Are unable to see me. But I hold my breath, and then you speak.
You ask me to whisper to you my dreams. You ask me to believe in these things,
to be unafraid for a change. To write my poetry, to turn the page, to know for
certain that there will be another day. You beg me to listen to your heart beat, to
take a seat next to the lilies and lies. To take from misery the golden skies
with ample opportunity. You ask me to see. To no longer count to three
before I jump. To just be faithfully blind and love. To let the peace I have be enough.
To let go of my hu
Returned HopeBreath taking, stolen. You came into my life with
your golden skin, your blue eyed sin that glimpsed
into my very soul. Stole, yes taken, my grief in my
utterly forsaken hopelessness. You made me commit
to something I have been so afraid of, something
that I know I am not made of. Hope.
When I had lost my faith and I could not cope,
you were there with Vodka and a rope, a net,
a catching glove and a smile. Moments passed and
after a while I could breath again. I stopped thinking
of him, I even stopped hating. I think
I have simply been waiting for someone honest,
someone with more than an empty promise.
So as you lie there and we begin our trip,
I smile slightly and bite my lip and remember,
There will not be a dreary December because
you have returned my hope and peace. I wanted a release
and you granted me a sea in which to find myself.
Where as we may never be anything else,
You have my desire for a "friend".
You are him.
TomorrowTomorrow isn't such a long time when we have eternity before us,
I hear you whisper my name and it's like a chorus of angels...
maybe it's demons, but that voice has given me enough reason to hold on,
to stay strong, to finally belong to something bigger than myself.
There is a peace in and of itself when I remember your fingers tracing,
replacing my scars with purity again, removing my sins and allowing me
to heal from within, whereas I never thought it possible.
I never would have thought it believable that I could love without convictions,
without bartering, without fearing and simply tolerating. To love is impermeable,
but to be loved by that for which you would die, is not measurable in this
language or the next. It is a triumph, a passing of a test, a final exam
before our forever can begin. And alas! It has begun. I have
fought for so long to find it, and now I have won. I do not claim to deserve
it, but it is mine to claim and run with. And that is what I will do.
BlueTo sleep where you have slept, to inhale the air that
you have left, to caress the same curtains you closed
last night would leave me with no sight, no sound,
no air, no ground, only a lost and found in my heart.
I have torn my mind apart, trying to grasp at the memories
when we last whispered because we knew that we must
hurry, in moments there would surely be an interruption.
The seduction was more than that, it was the white rabbit
and the black hat, it was a treacherous trap, because we knew
that with black and blue tomorrow would seperate us forever.
Forever, for never, I don't know anymore. I opened a door
and you walked right through, no invitation needed because
you knew you were welcomed. Whose past is darker is not
even the issue, it's simply that we both knew that there was a
darkness so deep that only one as dark could see the light
in the other. Rather an AWOL father or a deranged x, there is
simply no simple sex, no morning regrets, no calling cliffs. There
is only this.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
SpeakThe times are as dependent and derived as
they were yesterday. I step down from the ladder
atop my stage and walk to the audience, to
kneel and repent, and set my eyes upon you.
I hand you the microphone and ask you not
to condone what I do here, just swallow your
fear and for once open your everlasting mouth.
Do not doubt what you feel, do not question what's
real, do not ask for a deal or a bargain. Just begin.
I take my seat, resting my aching defeat, and waiting,
desiring nothing more than to hear what you
are saying when you think I am not listening.
The sweat on your palms is glistening but I am still
looking, breathing, waiting, because it is your turn.
You try to learn the lay of the stage, you try to find
a way to make it play in your benefit. But I will sleep
here if I must until you finish it, the song that you have
been writing from the moment we met. The dogs have been
fed, the plants are wet, the anger is dead. It is just
you and me, at a quarter to three. I wi
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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