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Footprints in the SnowA wisp of smoke rises up in front of me.
The soft glow of ember,
And the heavy, nicotine sigh.
I can’t tell if that suits me or not…
I look down and see footprints in the snow.
I’ve walked this same path so many times.
I can see everywhere I’ve been.
And everywhere I’ll go.
Why change it though?
Why should I take a different route
When I know every turn that this one will take?
Why would I let go of familiar?
I cling to this path because I know where it ends.
And any change, even for the better,
Isn’t worth the risk.
If I let go,
where would it end?
Looking down, I take a step,
Careful to plant my foot in one of the tracks.
It fits perfectly.
The last of my cigarette tells me
It’s time to go home.
But I’ll come round here again.
I know I will.
(I Never Knew It Would Be) The Last TimeI always told myself that I would remember.
That I’d remember every little moment,
Every seemingly insignificant touch,
Every cute little laugh.
Every warm heartstring you pulled…
I was lying to myself.
I didn’t realize it at the time,
But I was.
If only I had known then…
That this was the last time we’d hold hands,
The last time I’d make you laugh,
The last time you’d fall asleep next to me…
I would have made every second count.
Taken nothing for granted.
Done everything I could to make sure that I remembered
The moments like these.
Those moments are long gone now.
Long lost, long forgotten.
Just another cobweb in my heart.
Another parting shot
For when my mind makes the foolish decision
To think about you.
Now that I think about it,
Maybe I was doing the right thing all along…
SeptemberSummer is coming to its end.
The days are getting shorter,
Losing their color...
I need to get home.
Though I must admit,
There’s a certain beauty about it.
Living in soft-focus;
The autumn colors blurring together gently,
My not-quite-leaden heart still trying desperately
To keep pace with my mind.
It’s almost as refreshing as it is bleak.
So I’ll come back to familiar.
I’ll come back home.
I like it here, you know.
However cheerless it is to stay here,
However heartrendingly numb it makes me feel,
I’ll take this over the terrifying prospect of change, any day.
It’s a twisted sort of solace I get from this place.
And I’ve learned to take that wherever I can get it.
Even if it’s here.
Even if it’s home.
The Little Things (That We Remember)I remember the sky.
The sky was grey.
When you told me,
The sky was grey.
I remember everything you said.
I remember the way your hair looked,
The way your eyes flashed down,
The way you bit your lip,
Holding back the tears
That had already taken me.
I remember how I felt.
How I wept.
How I begged.
But more than anything,
I remember the sky.
'X' Marks The SpotYou asked me once, “Do you ever feel alone?”
Do you remember my answer?
It sounded cliché at the time…
God, how true it’s become.
You’re always welcome here.
I could never say no to you.
I couldn’t then.
What makes you think I could now?
I’ll go through the steps, the motions.
I know them by heart now.
Routine, routine, routine.
But I’m still waiting for you.
And I’d give it all up the second you asked me.
You won’t ever ask me.
Deep down, on some primal level,
But knowing something
And accepting it
Are two very different concepts.
And so I’ll wait for you here.
As long as I have to…
Just like you knew I would.
Nihil Ex NihiloNothing comes out but hollow, meaningless nothing.
Empty metaphors about birds or boats or stars or trees.
A hackneyed emotion,
So penetratingly absolute,
The Universe can’t help but shake His head and laugh.
And I can’t help but sigh.
Another sleepless night
Thrums in my chest.
A subtle buzzing at the base of my neck,
That doesn’t quite reach my brain,
And this permeating apathy,
Keep me locked in place.
Chains come in all shapes and sizes, it seems.
I grasp at words with futility.
Thoughts like ghosts,
Pale outlines in the dark;
Their meanings escaping me at every turn.
So it goes, so it goes.
Something will happen eventually.
Some change will occur,
Some new or unexpected emotion,
Some glorious moment,
That will shake me out of this dismal brume.
It will happen eventually.
Or it won’t.
And frankly, I don’t know which I find more harrowing.
(Winners and) LosersThe words aren’t coming now.
No pallid metaphor.
No crooked simile.
A complete and total victory.
Emotionally checkmated an unworthy opponent.
The only way I could ever talk to you
Was through these words of mine.
But you’ve taken them now.
They were always going to be yours,
I just wanted to give them to you.
I was playing for time.
And you were playing to win.
RetrospectSomething bitter clouds my mind.
Some vile, sneaking thing
Patrolling my subconscious,
Ever watchful for the even the slightest thought of you.
It’s hard to see clearly in this haze,
This venomous occlusion.
Distorting what once were
My most treasured memories.
I can only see the cliff’s edge now.
This chasm between me and you.
And the ashes of the last bridge
Still smoldering as it lay in ruin in my heart.
It’s partly illusion.
I know this, of course.
I know that I didn’t always feel like this.
But that sneaking thing…
He has a hold on me.
And it’s far easier to embrace him
Than to try and salvage my happiness.
You know I love easy.
Getting Through AfterHe sat on the edge of the bed, cigarette hanging limply from his lips. His fingers moved idly through his hair, the kind of unconscious mannerism of someone hopelessly lost in thought. Or someone tragically lost in Love. For him, it was the latter. Although, who it was that was lost, he couldn’t quite be sure. The only thing he could be sure of was just how empty his apartment had become. He had never noticed it before. The place had always felt rather like home to him. Not just because he lived here, but because she lived here. And that could make even the most desolate cavern warm and inviting. But the day she left, the day she slammed the door (the last time she ever would, he thought crookedly) was the day he started noticing.
He exhaled a wisp of smoke, sighed heavily, and dropped the remains of his cigarette into an empty bottle. He looked down slowly, listening to his cigarette fizzle out at the bottom. I guess all flames go out eventually, he s
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
dearly belovedthese days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
Let me dieGo away
Leave me alone
And let me die
Of this world
I don't want to live
Because there's no light
At the end of this tunnel
So I'll just end my life
Don't try to stop me
And we'll meet again
On the other side
Outside this dark tunnel
Wrists.Wrists are not made,
To be cut up by cold blades.
Blood was meant to stay in your veins,
Not to be drained.
From your body,
You're stronger than that,
I know a person can only take,
Until they break.
And you have your doubts,
And when you lay in bed,
The pain is all you think about.
But you're so much more,
Than your heart aches.
So much more,
Than your demons.
Even if you feel,
Like your dying,
And you are through with trying,
Because all you've been doing lately is crying.
I want you to know,
That no, you're not alone.
And you re going to survive.
Please just drop your knife,
Because you're going to,
Make it out alive.
words, wonderlight has faded and words are heavy,
but there is a delicate magic
twisting between your fingers.
it is all a-scribble
melisma without music;
syllables stitching terra firma
to firmament in intricate
stanzas that require
neither breath nor sound
to echo, infinite,
within the depths
of susurrous souls.
it is cold and it is dark,
but there is a fire in you
and you use it with a fierce grace
that illuminates the shadows,
and ignites the demons
until not even the grey spaces
that haunt and harry
can hold dominion.
they are exposed
they are broken
into shards of sunrise
and rays of a quiet
you scare away the night
with exhalations that blow
away the fogged emptiness
inside, over and over,
sparking fireworks from
what was thought
to be ash.
A Little LongerI move across the room slowly
To the dresser that still holds your clothes.
It’s not the only thing of yours that it holds.
And that’s why I’m there.
Today I realized it with utter certainty.
A certainty so tactile and penetrating;
The kind that clots in your throat,
And turns leaden in your heart…
I was always wanting just a little longer.
At the bottom of the drawer,
My fingers brush a small velvet box.
The corner of my eye starts to sting.
Grief is knocking.
I always find it hard to not invite him in.
My teeth cut into my lip,
After all, what’s one more scar?
They all belong to you anyway.
Just one more thing I’ll have for you
While I count down the minutes until forever.
I draw a faltered breath.
I drop to my knees.
I clutch the box tightly in my hands.
And memory cascades through me,
Turning to these bitter tears that fall to the floor.
Letting go is hard to do.
I guess I wanted just a little longer…
I guess I’m always go
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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