|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Love's tragedyLove's tragedy.
You thought your seduction
But I'm just a pawn
in the devil's clockwork.
secretly using you.
to be used by you.
But we only abuse you,
and that simply
tantric slaveI am your tantric slave
to your unbeating heart
I can hear you calling my name
and it's like a whisper carried across the ocean
And in all ecstasy I can't remember why
I ever fell in love with you in the first place.
While your hands caress my hips.
The ViolinWe all bid for your attention
with sorrow in our eyes
and pity in our hearts.
The violin plays on
as your colorful marionettes dance
Tears are shed
as the performance dwindles
Strings attached to our hearts
make us involuntarily move
while you watch on
in joyous splendor.
Oh how my wooden joints ache
from years of entertaining.
How I would like to gnaw through
this twin that enslaves me.
Somber springI don't think you saw my silver shadow in the monnlight
Or watched the sparrows fluttering in the breeze
you were gone you were far away
At the exact moment that I was watching the stars
you were no place near or dear to me
I don't think I can remember what color your eyes are anymore
I sit in the field of daises awaiting the sunrise
The dew of the morning settles on my skin
Pale as the winter snow that has long passed
I have not seen or heard of you since that last snowfall
I fret that I shall not see you until the first snowfall
Remember To breatheIt's amazing...
How you like the same music I do.
The way your eyes cut right through me; sending shivers up and down my spine.
The way your lips touch mine, while your hands trace the curves of my body.
The 1st time we kissed sparked interest and excitement. Now we can't keep our hands off each other
I love the way...
You know when something is wrong with me; and your eyes tell me you're worried.
You know all my ticklish spots you seem to learn more everyday
We compliment each other.
You can hold me while I sleep, and watch the dimples form on my face when I dream about you. I can't count all the minutes I've stared at you, amazed with your never-ending love.
The first night we spent together, waiting for the sun to come up; holding each other, listening to punk rock in my car.
The first time you said I love you And I was too scared to say it back
You told me that it felt like you were dreaming, and that's why you were so afraid to say goodbye. afraid I wasn't goi
She sat atop her roof laying in pigeon feathers and watching the clouds play pictionary before her eyes.
The breeze felt calming against the august heat. She tuned out the noises of the city during rush hour and concentrated on the singing of the birds and the whispers of the trees.
The sun was baking her skin, giving her faint freckles and a subtle tan.
"The birds they sing to me in foreign tongues that no man has been lucky enough to hear. The trees tell secrets that have been whispered beneath their branches late at night."
She traced her fingertips over the ruffles on her skirt while the wind blew loose pieces of hair in her eyes.
"I want to live under the stars, counting shooting stars and flirting with the man on the moon."
I sat contemplating loneliness and death while I lay in the tub. I watching the bubbles evaporate along with every feeling I had inside my body. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I screamed my lungs out; I was all alone in my existence.
"Why do people always feel inclined to make my day a little worse?"
I remembered what it was like losing someone you loved, who didn't love you as well; back then I promised myself never to love again. I suppose that's why every hope of a relationship always dwindles away with my tears. I stared at the pale pink walls in my bathroom and listened to the songs on the radio about love; I felt like throwing up.
I felt the bubbles on my skin as I laid face down in the bath. I wanted to stay that way forever; I felt invisible, and under the calmness of the water no one could hurt me.
Fisticuffs and love muffins
Why do you leave when everything has just begun. Your charming smile could get you in anyone's pants. You buy me five dollar daisies and sing in off key notes about love. You're a trickster, a prankster, and I love your laugh. You make me blush when you use your Jedi mind trick to get me to kiss you. oh how I kiss you
We spent all summer drinking lemonade and making love, listening to 80s music and head banging to the beat. I made you dance when you refused you blushed and said you couldn't. You said I'm all hips and hands, I pouted until you laughed and kissed me. oh how you kissed me
I said that you were blonde when you didn't get any of my jokes; you raised your eyebrow and threw a pillow at me. I tried to play fisticuffs but you pinned me to the bed and kissed me all over, stopping in your favorite places to nibble on my pale white skin leaving little bite marks
I hate the way you know all my ticklish spots and use it against me when I'm in a bad mood and you're trying to make me s
Perfect tv show
We tune into your story. You're left alone, pursuing dreams; and girls in short skirts. Does he ever get the girl? I'm sitting on my couch, throwing popcorn at the television screen, laughing at your tears.
Left alone to resurrect my pride
The picture starts to fade when I see her visiting you. Smiles and kisses outbid my spite. I begged you not go, I begged you; I pleaded The screen goes black and I'm left alone. You were my only hope Now you're watching me from my two way television screen basking in my misery.
My shock and surprise to your newfound love never once brought tears to my eyes, until i was safely in bed, tears fell on my pillow.
Your naive outlook on the situation made me frustrated and depressed. You were obviously unaware of the love I thought we shared. It's a lose lose situation for us. I'll stay depressed while you pursue happiness the happiness i gave was too far from your heart.
I thought I'd let you know just in case she
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-
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,
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.
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.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
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.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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