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-echo-brilliant light, the death of stars, long since dead,
dragging darkness behind them
merely illusions, no substance to kiss
I have no form …less than hollow
No stillness within me
No answers to give
No songs made of laughter
No treasures unclaimed
What faith now remains?
Look to other faces
My time never was
A whisper, a vapor
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
The woman from ParisI took much pleasure in losing my way in Paris' morbid and dangerous streets,
Where sole the high arrogant walls whispered me words I was able to understand,
These stretches of granite trapped me like the grave I've always dreamt of.
The Ladies' ice-cold and distant beauty inebriated me with all the bitterness of temptation;
Under a dirty, driving rain, I gazed at them and suffered
While the parisian mist permeated on my heart its burning frostbites,
And hearses of madness couldn't stop from parading through my mind.
"Veux-tu voir la face cachée de Paris ?" - A slender voice dragged me out of darkness
The Seine flowed, flowed, flowed...And stopped.
Her voice, like a carillon, announced Summer's return,
The breeze blew the rain, the sun revived these leaves dead for centuries,
As if she saved me from a waking nightmare.
"Je t'en prie, ne me regarde pas comme ça..." - An embarrassed smiled was being painted on her magenta cheeks
That was her, th
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
when the day is done i'll be goneIn my fingertips is the devil
Daring me to touch what is not to be touched
And I care not, reaching through my own open ribcage
To touch what lies between inflating balloons that are my lungs-
In my ears echo your voice,
Begging me not to reverse the corruption in my heart
And I care not, reaching between my lungs to grasp my heart with my inked fingers
To release the sigil stitched deep into the veins of my heart.
but he loves meshe says, "sweets, pay attention:
just because he kisses the bruises on your skin,
don't make up for the fact he gives 'em to you."
It Means Nothing in Frenchhe keeps trying
to grasp for something
he cant reach,
feeling his bones
pulls away from the weight.
he takes the train at five
before he goes to school
walking past the stares,
beneath the lights,
signing contracts in the
as he tries to make the job.
he is still
but the second his fingers
feel the sweetness
it is sweeped away
like the dust under a broom.
he is afraid
and he has been ripped
at the limbs,
from his own thoughts.
is it selfish
she doesn't care.
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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