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were about as predictable
as the quicksilver clock
on our kitchen wall.
you were a steady drumbeat
in the soundtrack of our life
and i was the bass guitar,
when the monotony succeeded
in sawing away at you,
bringing you back from simplicity
with the intricate vibrations
in my nylon strings.
you taped pictures, words
on your ceiling
and fell asleep
staring at them like stars
to the sound of artificial rain.
in the morning,
you woke up to find them
scattered on your warm body
and took them
as messages from the universe.
you were the vanilla scent
that wafted through the house
on wintry days,
and sending me on edge
i was the cold.
i kept you
from melting at the seams,
burning into ash,
bursting into flames
and destroying everything in your wake
but i am still nothing more
than the polar opposite
of your essence.
i am only
a lack of warmth,
and you never wanted
the cold's calculated
.the boy with sandy hair
has been watching you
with daisy eyes.
i hear the mourning doves
cooing for him,
and i hear his glistening
replies of black and white.
your kaleidoscope fingertips,
dripping like ink
from a brush
and you've been smearing it
until you can't breathe it
he called it the art of destruction.she had nice eyes,
the kind you liked to draw
with watercolor tears
and ink like the moon's
he had memorized
her midnight lashes,
the half-closed shutters
and memories locked away
behind a pupil,
and his pencil was the
were the specks in her
irises of emerald
everything she touched
turned into gold,
everything she touched
and rose anew
like budding flowers
after the blizzard.
could never do the same,
but he'd give those eyes away
for a dime apiece,
ignoring the fact
that ebony charcoal
and half-dried acrylics
were all that she would
The Same Smoke that You'll InhaleDay 12
I would travel the miles of dreams
and the depth to the bottom of your eyes
if only you'd turn a deaf ear to these screams.
I need you to be there when it all dies.
I stand here, half a juxtaposition
with the invisible truths in each of my lies.
I stand here for you, I stand in contrition
for my sing(e)ing ashes of my fire long burned out,
and I know that I'm anything but a musician.
You know exactly what this is about;
my everything is laying in a puddle before me,
disintegrated by limitless, ruthless, cruel doubt
And I need to ask if you can still see
the majestic, unbounded flames
that I used to so frighteningly be.
I suppose I can never be the same,
but nevertheless, I wish for your love,
for you to be the fuel for the wildfire I became.
I know you're the oxygen I was devoid of.
Dreams of Silver LavenderDay 24
All she wants is to breathe
the scent of wafting lavender,
engulfing her as she falls
into the silver
of her newly-painted nails;
into her reflection in the water.
But there is no water,
barely a reason for her to breathe.
She watches the brush dye her nail
a sweet lavender,
contrasting her ring's bright silver.
She knows it's into vanity, she'll fall.
And she does fall-
not into emptiness's icy water
reflected in her eyes' dull silver.
She falls as she steadily breathes
into sleep. She inhales lavender
and watches the light reflect off her nails.
She sees droplets bead on her nails,
glimmering as they fall
onto the petals of her lovely lavenders,
frosty with icy waters.
In, she breathes
and out, a misty silver.
Thirty pieces of silver,
she thinks, biting at her nails,
not stopping even once to breathe.
She watches them fall
and scatter on the ground like rainwater,
and she can smell sandalwood and a vague lavender.
One sprig of fresh lavender,
two rings of finest silver,
by the very thing
that used to set me free,
a lavender tint
settles over my fingers
as i close my eyes
(you were never in bloom,
but maybe that's better
than wilting away.)
He Says. (Did Anything Else Ever Matter?)Day 13
He's says that it'll be okay,
And I'm pretty sure he's lying.
He and his words have always been sugarcoated,
But now is not the time.
The more I write about ash and ink,
The more he tells me about how
All I'll ever be is cigarette smoke, yet
He says that it'll be okay?
He says that I'm a beautiful wreck;
A flame that's more of an ember than a fire,
But that has just enough oxygen to stay alight.
And I'm pretty sure he's lying.
He says that poets are just like icicles,
And he tells me how he tried to touch me
But I fell from the edge and shattered.
He and his words have always been sugarcoated.
I'd like to say something here:
I'd like to say that I can't be smoke and ice,
And that I've never been anything but air.
But now is not the time.
maybemake sure you bury the light
where you put it,
and i don't know
why i'm writing this.
maybe it's because i want you to be able to
in and out
so maybe you can understand,
but now i know
that i don't know
why oxygen keeps me alive
or how neurons are working,
hand in metaphorical hand,
to get me to write this
or why gravity
is pushing my shoulders ever downward.
i don't know a lot of things.
i don't know
why the juice i drank an hour ago
made me feel like it was scotch,
or why the string quartet
always makes me cry
or why i painted my nails
lavender and grey
but i can guess.
oxygen is magic.
neurons are actually little people
working to make me happy.
gravity hates me
and wants to see me suffer.
that juice was just that damn good.
the string quartet guys
were actually a huge hidden part
of that movie's emotional appeal.
lavender and grey are just my
and maybe some things
LoveWe say we love flowers
And their sweet aroma
Yet we can spend hours
Just picking them up
We ask for their thoughts
As we pick at their petals
About if he loves me
Or he loves me not
And yet we still wonder
Why nobody trusts
When "I love you" is muttered
But have we forgot?
We kill what we love.
KidsWe're just kids, that grew up too fast.
Due to expectations and isolations.
Adaptations, illustrations, separations.
It's not how it used to be.
I wonder will it last?
One words replies,
Now it's lies, cries, guys and skinny thighs.
Oh I despise, but I'll advise,
Do not trust a soul.
Blasting music in our ears,
Hiding from the sneers and leers,
They're picking on the queers.
Aren't they our peers?
Alone, and other feelings I've never known.
Upgrade your phone.
Dye your hair a darker tone.
Wear cologne and dig the drone.
Welcome to the cool zone.
Break and clatter.
"I'm fine." or "it doesn't matter."
Am I flatter or fatter?
Definitely the latter.
Watch my heart shatter,
And the pieces scatter.
Cause we're just kids, who grew up too fast.
Due to expirations and deprivations.
Situations, innovations, realizations.
It's not like it used to be.
Now we're an outcast.
Personal InterrogationWhere is the line between love and obsession?
What is the difference between ignorance and oppression?
Is there such as too much affection?
As each person we are, can there be perfection?
When in our longing escape we from depression?
How to expunge ourselves of subconscious connection?
Milk and BloodWe are terrified monsters and helpless gods.
To look in the mirror and gaze upon no beauty,
to walk upon silk and thistles
is the weakness of beasts of irony;
they wander through the labyrinth
slipping on pools of milk and blood,
remembering only the burning in their throats
Down those same throats they pour tar
silencing their own voice.
Why must we sow salt in our own soil
and complain of poor harvest?
Do they not think, acting on every fucking impulse?
Because we are fools.
Because we are human.
I love you
I extend my hand towards you,
tears running down my face.
I run as fast as I can,
but you are always out of my reach.
Just one last touch.
Just one last hug.
Just one last I love you.
Suddenly, you are gone.
In the blink of an eye, you are gone.
I collapse on my knees.
Crying to the heavens above...
Why couldn't I say I love you...
one last time...
before you were gone forever...
BeautifulI felt beautiful today.
I didn't straighten my hair,
And I didn't put on makeup.
I closed my white blinds and let
The light shine through
For a fresh background.
I stole my fathers camera,
Turned on my iPod, and began to dance.
I held it away and smiled,
Letting the -click- of the shutters
Blend with the music, forming its own beat.
I grinned and twirled in one of my sister's dresses,
Not giving a care should she walk in.
I laughed and fiddled with my hair,
I was coy and shy and natural.
I shed my shell of T-Shirts and jeans,
And let myseelf be free.
I look at the pictures I had taken and said,
Oh- there you are.
I've been looking for you.
SmileInspiration: "Sometimes you just have to smile, pretend everythings okay, hold back
the tears, and walk away."
They're laughing with you
Because you're happy
The moment's sappy
His love was never true
It wasn't ever, ever to you
To pretend you're okay
To hold back the tears
To hide your fears
When you walk away
Poets and ParadoxesTo be a poet is an endless paradox,
A constant contradiction of your thoughts
And division of your soul.
Paper cuts will scar your skin,
And fill your ink well up with blood
So you have no choice but to write from your heart.
It means you cry and lie
And lay awake each night
Thinking of new ways and new words
To hurt you and heal you all at once.
It makes it so that the beat of the stanzas
Is a heartbeat,
Hammering in time with your own
And speaking to you about every moment
That you have been compelled to pen.
It means breaking yourself apart
Into ink and sharp shards
Small enough not to cut anyone
And maybe those foolish and wonderful enough
To try piecing you together.
anything will do tonight.with heavy eyes
and abject sighs,
a frosty life lost-
it has cost you
but anything will do
with laughter dying out
and fading out of sight,
you close your eyes and listen-
get ready to ignite your mind,
it's all alright
it's all alright
so take your sorry soul
and lost control,
tumbling without a care
a debonair sigh,
a swift goodbye,
moved on past the
black and white
of my starlight.
it's all alright.
Keep in Touch!
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