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Changes ComeOn that hill that day, as the sun swallowed the sky whole in its warm light, she stood. The warm evening breeze playing with the long stands of her hair as the tiny butterfly hair-clip tried desperately to hold together what strands had not managed to escape its clutches. She turned her head slightly to acknowledge my presence and smiled once her eyes provided her with the proof she needed. Her smile however, wasn’t the smile that I had grown so accustomed to, it seemed more like a memory of a smile that she tried desperately to bring up. It was then, in the bright summer evening, on the hill that we used to spend all of our after-school hours in, that I realized that the girl standing in front of me was not the one with the smile that rivaled the warmth of the sun. It was then that I realized that she was broken, that her heart had been trampled on and her body used.
We sat down, back to back, under our favorite tree that had now proudly started advertising names of young and ol
That One Fleeting MomentI try to remember you time and again but my memory betrays me so easily these days. Your picture comes to me but in a hazy blur, like a dream dreamt too much. It feels like your stay in my mind has over extended itself and is slowly trying to fade away into the recesses of my mind, slowing blurring away. I can remember your hair, how softly they fell to your shoulders and that tiny butterfly hairclip that tried so hard to keep it in place. I remember you smile and how warm I felt just watching your happiness overflow onto me. I remember a lot of things, things that I know aren’t important anymore, like how the trees danced with the wind that one chilly November night. I remember that make of the car that sped by so fast it has difficult for us to see, I remember that street-dog calling out to his friends but I can’t bring up for face, in all its entirety. This is all I can do now, all I can do is write to keep that memory of you alive.
I remember that night we spent on the
To an EndI want to be part of a festival and see hope spring anew. I want to watch as the night burns into day, I want to see little babies with tired eyes wake up to the brightness of the sun. I want to watch buildings rise, from the nothingness to the monolithic beauty of human achievement. I want to listen to folk singers tell their tales of days gone by. I want to run through a field of nothing only to find life budding at the roots. I want to be something, something more than a carcass of a man, more than just the envelope to an important message. I want to be like the night lights that sparkle like diamonds on a sea of darkness, I want to be that hope that keeps a broken man running. I want to live like the jaybird that sings because it has beauty to admire. I want to be someone who inspires, more than a thought, more than an idea.
But there is no beauty for me anymore, there is no sliver-lining. There are no lights that shimmer like diamonds, no stars that shine so bright. No air that br
And Now I Think of YouI miss you more today, more now than ever, more here. Fifteen days away from you and my heart cries out for release, my mind gets fogged up and my heart threatens to break out of my ribs. I long to explore those familiar mountains on your body; follow those light marks on your skin. I want to run through your lanes, marvel at the night lights that glow like fireflies through your alleyways. I miss you, I miss your cold breath on my skin, I miss all those strangers that I’ve known, all the people that I’ve grown to love. I want to grow to love your mysterious ways again, I want to taste the spices on your tongue again, I want to grow familiar with you again. I want to savor your food, want to taste your sweet sweet breath again. I miss you more, today more than ever, here more than at home.
She smiled that familiar smile that faded with every wave I waved, her happiness glowing colder with every swing. Her eyes sing a song that my being can never forget and in a moment that
OnceOnce I thought I could rule the world. Once I thought I could grow, like the branches of a tree always seeking out the sun. Once I thought I could be anyone. I thought I could sweep the table clean, thought I would wipe the white dust off the black. Thought I could climb higher and marvel in its grandeur. Once I thought I could rise like the rays of the morning sun. Once I thought I could shine like the lights in a diamond only for the trained eye to see. Once I thought I could survive, like roots always seeking out life. Once I thought I could always find my way back home. I thought I could rise, like the smokes of cigarette long forgotten. I thought I could fall, like the rain, always on the certainty of the earth. Once I thought I could fly, without wings. Thought I could find places to hide, places to turn in the mask. Once I thought I could see for miles. Once I thought I could be, more than what I am, more than what I wanted to be. Once, I thought I could be magnificent.
Unspoken ConversationsShe rested her head on my shoulder and spoke to me that night, as the night slowly drooped into darkness and silver star-dust sprinkled itself like ambers across the cold night sky. She spoke of days gone by, of childhood lost and redreamt, of lingering love lost, of better days to be lived, of the darkness. She told me about the little sparkle in the corner of her eye, of the little fold on her cheeks everytime she smiled, of the little man with the clenched fist that ruled the chambers of her heart. She spoke of the broken-winged bird caged but singing for freedom, of the pianist with broken fingers and a masterpiece on his mind, of the little girl with bombs to be dreamt. Our souls fused into one that night, as the lonely street dog started to sing, as the lonely man with skin drooped with age sent out a heavy sigh into the emptiness of his empty room, as the lonely young boy with tear-stained cheeks cried for a mother in a sea of wolves. She told me about her fears, about the queas
A Greater SorrowYou came to me in my dream last night and my heart slowed. You were as radiant as I remember, full of life smiling a smile too big for that little mouth of yours. You weren’t doing anything special, just standing there, in a light too bright for my eyes but I didn’t look away. Even if the light burned my corneas, I wouldn’t look away. Maybe that part of me turned numb at the sight of you, the part that told me that I was in pain. The hole that my heart had learnt to skip over, the hole that had drown my life in.
There were so many things I wanted to ask, so many answers that had floated within the dark chasms of my mind that I could never be sure. I wanted to talk to you then, like we’d never spoken before. I wanted to tell you things my mind wouldn’t. I want to relearn your existence to find those hidden valleys in your body again but you never came. I ran to catch up with you, ran with every molecule of my being but you never came any closer. I pleaded w
Numb“Why are we always so numb,” she said to me, watching the trees pass by. The autumn leaves were turning and the forest floor was a carpet of forgotten greenery. She didn’t turn to me as she spoke, she just eased into those words so effortlessly. Birds sang somewhere in the distance, a tree branch creaked, dogs barked.
“I think people are so busy in their own lives, so busy finding wealth, so busy trying to be someone that we turn numb to everything else. We have nothing, nothing to complete us, nothing to feel,” she said tapping the glass separating the outside world. Fumbling around the insides of her brown leather handbag, she produced a box of cigarettes. Flicking the flint of her lighter, she inhaled long only to breathe out a cloud of grey smoke. She slightly rolled the window down and the watched the cloud find freedom. “We are always filled with anger, with hate that we need to brush with people just to feel again. Feel, even if only for a sec
MusicThat night you sang to me, your words felt like a thousand unopened love letters. I told you stories like secrets and your chords stuck just the right corners of my heart. And i missed you then like I thought i never could, in those silences in between your songs. Your images flooded these old caverns of memories in my mind. And I knew I wanted to hold you like the moon does the sea. Those stars in the emptiness of the sky hanging like promises we never kept. Like promises lost in between those oblivion folds of time. Our souls like flickering flames of light, I traced your regrets like shadows in the night. And I wrote an ending then like the full stop that soon followed your music.
Death followed my father home.Death bought a new pair of shoes from my father. It left and hit a woman right in front of my father’s store. It dragged her thirty feet across the parking lot before speeding off, leaving her to bleed in front of Target. It brought my father out of his shoe store to direct traffic around the body, blood trickling against his shoes. It tapped the shoulder of an employee with CPR training. It got blood all over his clothes and sent him home early for the day when there was nothing he could do.
Death followed my father home. It called my father’s cell phone with an invitation he couldn’t turn down. It put a new playlist in my father’s Pandora shuffle that brought him to tears. It picked out the finest formal wear my father owned and laid it on the bed. It cancelled the plans my father had with his grandson.
Death gave my nephew an empty balloon. My father took it away before he could choke. It wheezed a skeletal laugh and patted the boy on the head.
a youth without flowerswake up, dress in your sunday best - that white church dress with the ribbon collar wound tight like a noose around your neck. don't wince when mamma pulls your hair back into twin tails, even though your scalp feels like it'll split open.
get in the back seat. wonder why your uncle is driving the family car down wheezy roads, but only wonder silently. from the back seat you see his fat old stomach wobble as the ford jostles down a gravel road toward church. apologize to mamma when your head smacks into the window - it's your fault, anyway.
smile like your daddy is the preacher, but don't seem too happy. mamma told you that today is a sad day. this thought rattles around in your tiny head; it doesn't make sense. how can the sky be as blue as a bird's belly on a sad day? there aren't many clouds in the sky.
don't fuss when mamma pulls you away from the kids playing ball underneath the big oak tree. she's only doing that to help you - you wouldn't want those pretty black shoes to get scu
Blood Regent: FaithfulThe beads were cold on his fingertips. The old brick of the church smelled of mold; corroded by the decades of winds breezing up from the loch.
“O my God, I am heartfully sorry for having offended thee,” he rolled the bead along the edge of his finger. The words spilled from his lips, memorized but still genuine. He lifted the stick until the candle finally breathed flame.
“- and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee my God…”
“Garrett,” a voice called from behind him.
“- Who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve…”
“Garrett, haven’t you asked enough?” Garrett felt a hand brush his shoulder. His scar rubbed against the cloth and the feeling was unpleasant.
“That is the point of repentance, Duncan. It will never be enough. Leave me to my prayers, please.”
Garrett watched Duncan’s shadow dance across the walls. He p
Generations - Through the Years1956
“So tell me, do you think I can get away with this on the beach at Nice?”
Helen Forbes looked over at her daughter and said “I don’t know – you don’t think it shows a little too much?”
Katherine smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Nah – I don’t think so,” she said with a smile. The sleeveless white blouse was open at the neck, the lapel folded back, and her red shorts had little pockets at the front. Her outfit was completed with a pair of white heeled sandals.
“I still think it’s a little showy,” Helen said as she went back to packing her daughter’s case. Her mother was wearing a blue blouse, the neck open and the lapels pressed back, and a knee length red cotton skirt that buttoned up the front, with white open toed shoes.
“Come on Mum – what did you wear when you were my age?”
“Short dresses, long socks and pigtails,”
Not a Date, simply an InteractionA lanky, slightly scruffy yet well-dressed man sat in the ornate cast iron chair provided him by the street-side cafe. His icy blue eyes were squinted with the kind of hatred only confidence, or arrogance, can bring a man, and his form is covered with a crimson and black pinstripe suit. This man had shooed away his waiter several times that evening as he gazed at the other tables, absent-mindedly sipping the merlot in his fluted wine glass. He was about to move over to a table where a lone, middle-aged woman sat when his vision was blocked with a feminine form dressed in blue. "I hope you don't mind the company," the stranger said politely, her voice like silk ribbons dancing in the ocean. "But I saw you were alone, and thought you could use the presence of another human." The man sneered, looking over the woman in front of him. She was clothed in an backless, single shoulder indigo-transitioning-to-cobalt dress, and her clear blue eyes were surrounded with smoky make-up of a similar h
SethEn la oscuridad del origen del mundo definí mi destino
La llave de la verdad yace enterrada en lo profundo de mi alma
Mi sangre inerte clama por el conocimiento perdido.
.:Selfish:.I’m just a little bit cowardly
A little bit selfish
Holding onto a blind wish
I’m the one who cries while others laugh
Counts the cars that pass
Hands out my trust too fast
I’m the one who chases down falling stars
Dreams too big
Loves too hard
I’m the one who notices everything
Yet nothing at all
The one who would jump off a cliff
Just to see who stops my fall
I’m the one who wishes-
Wishes a lot
That whenever I say “I’m okay”
You would just hug me
And say, “I know you’re not …”
But I’m also the one who laughs
Even when I have no reason to
The one who smiles
Because there’s nothing else to do
The one who spends all her days
Wanting it to be night
And all her nights
Just waiting for morning light
I would wait for hours just to talk to you
Even if you wouldn’t do the same for me
I would complement you daily
Until you finally agree
And that is why my
By the sea shoreThere's a sound like the ocean when you put your ear to a conch shell. Or it's supposed to be the ocean. Lynn's always thought otherwise.
It's the sound of pulling and pushing and sighing and rushing.
Feral, fierce echoes.
There's a bone in your ear that's shaped like a shell. Lynn thinks that's why the conch is so special; it’s a link, a familiarity that grasps as deep as your bones.
She found her conch on a trip to Cedar Key, with Tommy and Lizzie and Helen. They wandered along the sand, skipping in and out of waves, watching the water eat the shore. Lynn liked the way each wave flattened along the beach, grasping greedy at her toes. Tommy and Lizzie whooped war cries at seagulls. Helen chased a hermit crab from the tide line to a tidal pool. Lynn gathered driftwood and seaglass, searching for the perfect natural knicknack. The conch shell was half-buried in seaweed. She washed it, standing calf-deep in the body of the
Commission: veenderEverything was dark. All he saw was darkness. Painbolt was conscious. His sight was hidden by a black blindfold. The young brown haired man tried to move, but his body was bonded in tight ropes and was seated in a wooden chair. Painbolt moved his lips, but what came up were muffled cries and grunts. Where was he? Why was he tied? And more importantly, why was he kidnapped?! Finally, the gag and blindfold were ripped from his face. Painbolt opened and blinked his eyes to see a group of scientists standing in front of him.
He shouted, “What’s going on?! Who are you people?!” The people didn’t answer, but they moved a bit and a woman walked towards him. Painbolt recognized her. It was his annoying rival The Muse. She was a redhead with a black dress with yellow outlines.
The Muse smiled very mischievously, “Hello, my friend! Guess what?! I have a new experiment I want to show you!”
Painbolt grimaced, “Oh, god! Not one of your s
Words and DreamsI create, I imagine, I write. I bring eloquent memories to life, tell stories about beautiful girls with hearts that would melt in the summer sun, talk about nature in fascination. I am a creator, I breathe life into people and plan memories like an architect constructing a complex ideological heart that beats like the ones in real life and breaks like the ones in real life. I can create eyes that curve like the beautiful eyes of newborn kittens, I can write about the warm breath of a teenage girl, I can bring back people that have already turned into ashes and blown with the wind but always in dreams.
I die, a little, every time I write. My heartbreaks every time my fingers long for the familiarity of a pencil, my eyes swell every time my mind longs for escape. Where are the people I long to create? Where are the people I spend hours of my time breathing life into? Where are the beautiful girls whose hair smells like oranges and whose eyes shine like the millions of stars in the sky?
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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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