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Her, AgainAs she stood there and watched him walk away, again, her mind drifted, unbidden, down the path they had walked together. She remembered the times he had stood beside her, the times he had held her up when she couldn't stand on her own, the times he believed in her when she couldn't believe in herself. For so long, she truly believed that she meant something to him, that she was more than a pretty face. He had always seen so deeply inside her, as if the walls she protected herself with weren't even there. Maybe that's why it hurt so badly when he walked away so easily. He had seen all of her, found her lacking, and severed their connection like it meant nothing. She thought of all that was, and all that could have been. As her mind drifted through the memories and dreams, her eyes began to mist, clouding her vision. Still, she stood tall, too hurt by him to risk showing her vulnerability. Her eyes filled with tears, too many for her
AwayYou taught me how to love,
And then you turned away.
I heard your voice again,
Before you disappeared.
untitledThis time, baby, I'll be bullet proof.
Turn around, walk away like it doesn't matter..
This time, it will be the truth.
I'll walk away like I don't care,
like I don't want you every moment,
This time, it will be the truth.
Right up til you want me again,
When all you are melts all of me,
And you destroy my wanna be truth.
Again I'll be yours, clinging to shadows,
Chasing after these lovely dreams..
Dreams that will never be the truth.
UnquenchableGoing down in flames, burnt one last time by this love. The pain melts your mark on my soul beyond all recognition. You've passed the torch, the fire is all my own now, and it burns brightly still. Through all these changes, the fire has remained, forming me within. The marks of my dance remain in the sand to tell the story that shall never be.
Hard in the gut.
No air left.
So this is what pain feels like.
Hole in my soul.
Finally, the tears begin to fall.
You'd cause this?
And still the blood flows.
Still, you're all my heart knows.
For A MomentIf we could let go of all the past pain
For a moment, drop these human constraints
I could love you entirely, unrestrained
And you could love me as I am.
What is on the other side?When you're staring at your reflection, what do you see? It is obvious to most people that you see an
exact image of yourself, but how do you depict that lingering 'image' that surrounds you?
What exactly do you 'see' when you look into a mirror? Light is everywhere and no person can escape
it. The same can be said about a person's feelings no matter how hard they try to cast a shallow mask
behind their true emotions.
Just how fragile are we? There are some who have more willpower than others, but lack in other
departments that help to build us up. What is it that makes you a strong or weak person?
What are you gazing at? Do you perhaps see a strong individual on that other side of the light? Is
there something dark and mysterious about that 'impostor' that you just can't figure out yet? Where
are you? Who are you?
What is on the other side?
Validating Your Tears (I'm Sorry) But what you don't know is that I'm frustrated that I can't write a poem about the thorns growing on my veins and icebergs rooting in my heart. I can't write about the void in me when he no longer plays me Beethoven's music or sings me out of tune songs. Because there's none. I don't feel anything when he leave.
Truth is, I want to feel crushed, and heart broken. Because at least sadness can prove that I loved him and that what he said about me never loving him is wrong. And I don't want to prove him right with being happy.
I want to write something beautiful about him. I want to write a poem because that's what I know, that's the only thing that had me getting my emotions back in boxes. I want to write a poem about us smiling with dandelions on the roadsides and crying without rain to validate our tears. I want to write so
Words on a ScreenLife has been a v i c i o u s cycle.
I’ve stuck in it for years, since senior year of high school. This was when friends turned away, turned into things I didn’t need. Depression destroyed a lot of what I held dear, leaving my life in shambles. Somehow I made it through to the end of the year. Somehow I managed to grab hold the edge of my cap, and managed to toss it up into the air, and join my Class of 2011 in celebrating the feat of graduating high school.
It wasn’t until I was out in the real world that I realized the saying, “You are only friends with people at school because you saw them five days a week.” Quickly I watched as everyone got married off, or had kids… within the simple span of months since we took pictures on the tarp covered graduation floor. The men wandered off to their missions, the women started families. Everyone I was around for the final year of high school quickly ran off to their fut
KaterleYou are what taught me how to love, your breathing my dictionary. I sleep best when you're snoring next to me, as you're doing it right now...
We met when I was about ten, and I wasn't doing well. You came with sky-blue eyes and the old lady you just wouldn't stand to be separated from. The beauty of winter, but your heart was a camp fire in the deep dark woods, a comfort to the lost wanderers like me. When my head ached from crying too much, I had a soft place to lay it down on you. Your fur dried all my tears. Your gentle purring drowned all thoughts of sad and grey.
That house was never my home; but they say home is where the heart is, and you were there, and I stayed with you.
Would I still be alive if I had run away back then?
Would it even be life without you?
And whenever my heart hurts, I have you. Your sweet, gloved paws to touch my face, your calm heartbeat to talk to me. The only thing it ever says is 'I love you.'
It's an echo of my own, it's the voice of all my thoughts. T
do it.Suffering isn't always pain.
Sometimes its having to itch your finger,
when you wanna strike a match,
and watch it all just fucking burn.
The World Is A Trigger: Social Works. It all began with a look outside the window. Perhaps they could have of told them that they had no daughter, or that she wasn't there... But where is there use in lying when all their names are in he system? Before there was a chance, they met her eyes. After adult-talk, the sheriff walked in. His words burned against the rim of her cranium, the way he directed her to clean her room... But truly, was that his worry? Or was it the way the black mold on the living room walls curled so delicately, as though purposefully designed. Perhaps he wanted her to start simple and keep her hidden in lies, despite the obvious truth that returned her glares. Then again, maybe it was due to the dog's papers, full of business, that the sheriff slipped on. Maybe, again, he wanted her to begin small. But what is so small when he questions her desire to live in this Hell? Had she known the world, had she known a true, "normal" household, perhaps the sense would have met her to beg them to sav
masochist.It's not the simple pain that I enjoy,
it's simply the pain of loving you,
which gives me my sick thrill.
lover I will never haveto the lover I will never have...
What was I in your eyes?
A one night stand?
A friend? An enemy? A lover?
Though, I thought it was strange... You always said you hated me.
Always pushed me away.. But I guess that's alright.
You called me cute though. That day, after school.
It left an imprint on me. And I wondered.
What do you really think of me?
Just what am I to you?
We never kissed. Never-- did, anything of that nature.
School's full of pretty boys.. And hot girls..
Why call me cute? Why not some chick you got pregnant?
There's videos of it, you know.. Online.. Tons..
We want to share our bodies with the world. We want them, to notice us.
To touch us. Show us how they make us feel..
I'm just a guy.. Nothing special about me.. Not at all..
Still, you called me cute. And I guess..-- I wondered what you meant by that.
Maybe it was nothing, so I'm overreacting. But maybe, maybe it was something.
I'll never know.
Though days will go by. Before long, you
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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