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After All This TimeI still think about you,
When I'm alone at night.
I still miss you,
When you're gone from my sight.
I still dream of you,
Much more than you know.
Why did you ever leave me?
Why did you have to go?
I amI am part of the background.
I am a faded memory.
I am the silence full of sound.
I am whatever you need me to be.
I am what's lurking in the night.
I am the dark inside your mind.
I am the thing that makes you fight.
I am the thing that makes you blind.
I am the part of you that's true.
I am the part that no one sees.
I am part of the background.
I am a faded memory.
I Love YouI love you.
With every move,
With every muscle,
With every bone,
With every thought,
With every dream,
With every nightmare,
With every pain,
With every joy,
With every smile,
With every tear,
With every laugh,
With every sob,
With every gasp,
With every moan,
With every breath,
With every kiss,
With every drop of blood,
I love you.
Her"I'll slip my hands beneath your dress,
And rake my nails down your chest,"
And as her nails split my skin,
I shivered in delightful sin.
Sometimes I miss her scornful lips,
Her searing kiss, her perfect hips.
How it felt with her beneath me,
Her body trembling in ecstasy.
With thoughts of her running through my head,
It's so much colder here in bed.
I could fill this empty space,
But I could never forget her face...
Turn Towards MeThe light, it stung. She tried to run,
But to where could she flee?
The whispers rang throughout her head,
And so she turned to me.
I wrapped her up in my embrace,
Quieting her fears.
I brought my lips down to her face,
Kissing away her tears.
GameI laugh because I know your game
I've played that game, as well
It starts out just heavenly
But then turns into Hell
I learned my lesson, quit the game
None of it was true
When will you see past the lie?
It's only hurting you
BleedI grasp the handle,
Your face clouding my head
Cool metal against my skin,
Your laugh resounding in my ears
As I drag the knife across,
Your smile is all I see
The blade piercing my flesh,
See how you make me bleed?
I should hate you with a passion,
But the passions all I feel
I never should have told you,
And now the pain is all too real.
BeautifulA marble face
A blank expression
Shes still beautiful
A sullen frown
A saddened gaze
As blue as the ocean
Shes still beautiful
She says I'm wrong
She says Im blind
She has no idea that
She's too beautiful
In her presence
I feel weak
I feel low
I feel small
She has no idea that
When she smiles
The world is so much more
*Past and Present*One hundred years ago
When summer cast golden glow
Weeping willows, river side
Cast gentle shade, punts could glide.
Mild, quiet summer day
Strawberry smell and smell of hay
Silken dress on a boat
Shaded by parasol, afloat.
Today loud music rocks river
Weeping willows really weep
T/shirt slogans, blue jean rule
Now we’re noisy but very cool.
Hidden TreasureHidden Treasure
Men seek treasure below the sea
They dive far below the waves
They travel far and away
Spending all hours of the day
Searching in mountain caves
I climb mountains just for fun
I sail the seas for pleasure
I spend my time in other ways
I don't need to hunt for my treasure
Because she came to me
GatekeeperDrawn by a single angelic finger
As white as cotton clouds in morn
The flesh a child's in innocence
Where all its grace is well adorned
Veins of blue as bowl above
Where overflown the rain descends
A healing joy hid by that cloth
To ask for time to make amends
Fabric flown in wind through sky
Two halves crack the door
And all is seen in sightless peace
To feel a moment so implored
Expend an energetic wave
The site where there is shown
From inside out exuberate
Touched by one's own
There is a line now held in place
Behind which mirrors shine
Reflect back the present gazes
Who drive to ask before their time
Only be a part of passage
Depression's saving needed
When pouring gifts lie mouldering
And oldest wisdom unheeded
When eyes are rivers in themselves
Come in the loudest spike
And silent yawn the gates awake
To coo the crying souls alike
Imagined paint will always be
The master's tools to colour all
The mind a much creative being
That needs some help after a fall
So come and pierce the
Tracks in DuskGrandeur fall
Where the light reflects
Swayed to awe
As the day injects
With a burning ray
The smallest track
Of the smallest shade
Once her breadth is plain
To a naked claim
From the shed of night
Where the sun aligns
Shown to be
Where no face detracts
All the ink enacts
Left is harsh
Under heatless flame
A single mark
With a single name
World in sharpest phase
To extend the blaze
Save the prints they make
In time they share
But a single fate
Lives they felt
In the safest days
All to know
Has long since escaped
Time will pass
And a history played
By size of acts
And their shadows made...
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on an emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
Self-EulogyYour winter’s hammock has a seam of snow
from when your cloud-capped head weaved crystal webs.
Poetic imprints, angels inked in cold
are memories etched in your paper corpse.
You left some things, but words were not your force.
Figuring it out was the breeze. Your folds,
however, soiled your time and what is left,
your ash bed I bought, is a seal of slough.
In dreams, you draw the sewing of slain narwhals
to constellations. I console them. Have
you solved your ode that flails with paradox?
I’ve found your fields of ice, but I was lost.
In summer, you’ve stolen my voice when half
your winter’s hammock is a seal of slough.
The ConductorMy body is an Orchestra,
He is the conductor.
Like a chemist with a formula,
Or architects with a structure.
The brass knocks me off my feet,
as he grabs the strings of my heart.
Throws me in a front row seat,
and takes the stage like Mozart.
Flutes and Clarinets,
Speak soft like warm dreams.
The French horns and Cornet,
Create subtle running streams.
He cues the drum,
However none play.
The hands to numb,
Lack of words to say.
Never once have you seen
Never once have I saw.
When love comes between
The Conductor and his Orchestra.
The Day She Falls Off Her ThroneToday she stands tall
On a mountain of deceit
But one day she'll fall
She'll be tossed off of her feet
And when this day comes
The day her reign is put to an end
She will have nothing left but crumbs
Nobody to attend
And whose fault will it be?
Her Mother's, Father's, or her own?
Perhaps all three
On the joyous day that she falls off her thrown
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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