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Too NiceI'm too nice.
Really, I am.
If you don't believe me, then let me tell you some stories.
I had a boyfriend for three years. When I needed his support, he knocked me over. I stayed his. When I cried, he made me cry harder. I stayed his. Finally, when he started sexually harassing me, I thought about leaving him. It took me two months to decide to do it, and another couple of weeks before I did.
You know what? I felt guilty.
A had a friend last year. She roughhoused with my other friends, and they didn't like it. I stood up for her. She made fun of them. I stood up for her. When I needed her support, she didn't give it to me. I still stayed by her side. Only when she started harassing me for cracking under stress did I tell her off.
You know what? I STILL feel guilty.
I feel guilty about both of them. I know, it's what I needed to do to continue my life in a healthy way. But I still feel pity and guilt for them. Why? I'm too nice.
Now, I'm in a similar situation. She's been my best friend
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
The woman from ParisI took much pleasure in losing my way in Paris' morbid and dangerous streets,
Where sole the high arrogant walls whispered me words I was able to understand,
These stretches of granite trapped me like the grave I've always dreamt of.
The Ladies' ice-cold and distant beauty inebriated me with all the bitterness of temptation;
Under a dirty, driving rain, I gazed at them and suffered
While the parisian mist permeated on my heart its burning frostbites,
And hearses of madness couldn't stop from parading through my mind.
"Veux-tu voir la face cachée de Paris ?" - A slender voice dragged me out of darkness
The Seine flowed, flowed, flowed...And stopped.
Her voice, like a carillon, announced Summer's return,
The breeze blew the rain, the sun revived these leaves dead for centuries,
As if she saved me from a waking nightmare.
"Je t'en prie, ne me regarde pas comme ça..." - An embarrassed smiled was being painted on her magenta cheeks
That was her, th
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
Parchment ThinYou left pencil lead bruises
smudged on my thin ivory skin,
your harsh fingers tracing the lace
of the baby doll lingerie
you pasted to my curves.
The angel wings
tied with tape around my shoulders
(the missing piece of innocence
you thought you could borrow)
weighed me down;
with flat eyes
and marker-blotted lips,
I watched you admire your handiwork.
A nimble flourish of knuckles later,
you slipped me between the plastic
of your photo album
and left my name dripping ink
in the corner--
just another parchment doll
too fragile for holding.
darknessHave you ever woke up and you feel like their is darkness all around you?
You are battling your own mind
You have the worst thoughts go on in your head
Don't want to be around anyone
You feel like you are doomed
You think no one understands
Waking up in the darkness is not a good feeling
Try to think of a good place in your life and let the darkness fade
The Story Of The Night
When dusk goes and gives its place to darkness
Comes to life the One they think is Soulless
No matter how much the passion it’s useless
Forgotten, tossed and hopeless
Whose caress Brings to life the dark creatures of the forest
longs for the embrace of the day, within his heart a thousand dark roses
A thousand punctures in his heart are what you call stars
the remains of his long sustained scars
Sometimes his pain lies heavy on the clouds eyes
And the water of sorrow falls from the skies
Yes,It’s what you call a Nightly Rain
But in fact it’s tears of Night going Insane
The day that light was going to be given to day or night
Night gave all his shine to day so she would be even more beautiful at everyone's sight
but it became his curse and was departed because of his lack of light
Always reaching for the hand of the day in reality and in his mind
Always having this question deep inside
Will he be able to turn the destiny's tide?
CrossroadsI feel like I've been here before.
At this same crossroad, where the signs are missing.
Both roads are covered in thorn bushes and poison ivy,
But one is shorter,
And at the end of the shorter road there is someone waiting for me
To take my hand and hold me;
To heal my cuts and bruises from the thorns I walk through.
But do both roads hold the same destination?
Or will one road bring me into a circle,
And back to where I am now
Like it did last time?
I still have the scars from then,
They taught me not to hesitate.
But still I do hesitate.
Is this really déjà vu?
He certainly thinks so.
Has it really come to the point
Where She does more bad than good,
And is no longer worth holding onto?
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
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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