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A perfect noose.
Those eyes of yours.
How they're rotten to their core.
But utterly beautiful
Blood hits the floor.
Creating agate stains
Beneath your high heeled soles.
There is no lull in your step.
No falter in the swing of your
You go on,
With blood dripping from your hands.
A glass figure balanced on
Where there is no darkness.
Where not a thought is clouded
Innocence rooms in her eyes.
Those college dorms locked up in her skies.
Their doors stabled shut,
Framed by brown lashes
And guarding a beautiful story.
That is simply priceless.
Ice Within Her HandsEverything sits silently.
Rain trembles between our toes,
Frantically racing through her puddles.
Red drops splatter
Down into a world built upon concrete hearts,
Wailing car alarms in the middle of the night,
The "Big Apple."
Ever so compelling,
Yet shoves us away with cold,
We all know that, "Next week."
Unknown PricePregnant with Autumns flavor.
Rung from the green vine.
The soft scent of ladies in the orchard,
Buried under time.
They fall upon their corpses,
Filling the air with the foul
Scent of decaying happiness and
The sweet melody of fresh apples.
Now whenever our hands touch one another,
As you smile gratefully, for you own
My frail heart,
My mind returns to that night in the orchard
When passion bloomed.
When our lips were raw from the
Small taste of love
When we felt as one.
Sailors MistressOceans swim in her eyes.
Icicles are frozen, halfway blocking
The emotional flow
Between her world and
They're sailors fighting a war
Within the heart of a stranger.
Dancing on the wire between life
She's just a stranger.
Someday when sailors stop fighting,
Birds stop flying
That strange girl with blue eyes the size of oceans
Will be all too important.
SubmissionThere is a perfect girl
Somewhere in today.
Where her lips seem
Painted luster pink
And everyone thinks
That her hair is a wig,
It's too perfect.
Not a stray hair ever out of place.
But it's her eyes that tell
She would rather not give any word,
She sits on that windowsill,
Pondering what it would feel like
To go outside.
How the clouds would taste.
Would they taste of musty rooms,
Or warm Sundays?
Or even how the sun would make
Her hair even more golden.
The doll starring back at you.
The hostage painted,
Tainted, strained to form a doll.
And only their eyes would tell you
They had ever been human.
What Do You PonderI've missed the wonder
In your eyes.
Your thunder, calming
In your soul.
A nectar, pure and with a hint
I've missed you,
Plain and simple.
The forest smell of your brown locks,
And even your
My favorite part of you.
Windows into your soul.
Sometimes they're closed, you're afraid and bashful.
But when they're open;
When you're letting your door open;
Your emotions run free,
I can almost hear the waves of wonders
Seeping into me.
Usually they're small raindrops
Raining into the ground,
But sometimes there's full on
Blizzards causing havoc
I can usually tell when
You're about to snap.
Maybe it's when your eyes turn moss green,
Unnatural for you.
Or when your skin turns back
To the pale white it was
When I first met you.
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