|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
december.and when they take me
to the morgue,
will you see the difference
between my skin and the sheet?
and when they close my eyes
please be standing over me,
so that your face
will be the last thing they see.
and when those tears fall
down from your face
pour them on my lips,
so i can take you with me.
and when they look away
caress my bloodless face,
give me one last gush of
and when they bring the casket
gently tuck me away to sleep,
read me one last story
from that book atop the shelf.
and when they place me in the ground,
beneath six feet of dirt,
leave your footprints in the snow
and please don't let them melt.
and when I fall to hell
i'll be waiting at the gates,
but darling please take your time
there is no need to rush.
midnight express.i would never want
to live forever,
so tell Death
when he comes for you
to stall the train
because i'm going too.
You Kill Me the Way Books Do.You are all literature
is to me,
your mind encompasses the
of the whole earth.
Your gentle eyes
narrate the greatest story
and your ivory touch
writes the perfect poem.
When you smile you are
adorned by golden crowns.
When you cry you become
the tragic hero,
the martyr of the play.
You are all the words
that fill each book,
and I am the humble reader
just wishing you knew I
Empty Pages.You are the perfect story,
A plot unfurling from your touch,
And poetry in your eyes.
You speak with golden glory,
Into sentences of hate,
And promises of lies.
You are the book
I never had the words to write.
happily ever after? not really.cinderella is dead,
because you read other stories
and just couldn't keep your hands
from tangling in rapunzel's golden hair
or caressing aurora's sleeping face.
-and all these years
it was in the wrong place
I did search for you,
because heaven is not the only place
where an angel can be found.
midnights always last longer than they should.i spend sleepless nights in my room
staring at your picture on my mirror
and wondering why on earth someone as beautiful as you
would ever love someone like me,
but then i remember
you don't need stars with city lights.i love the city,
because you introduced us.
your apartment was on wycliffe avenue,
a rectangular gray-brick building
that was our make-shift castle.
i could stay up all night
sitting on the fire-escape
and watch waves thrash within the harbor.
long after midnight fled
and we were still curled up
on your couch
my parents would call to ask me where i was,
even though they already knew.
late night sirens
and insomniac car horns,
mixed with your measured breathing
became a lullaby
that lured me to sleep
admists the ivory sheets.
i would always wake
just before dawn
and wait for the sun to rise
so together we could watch you awaken.
and even as i said goodbye
i was leaving my jacket
hanging on the kitchen chair
just to have another excuse
to come back.
some words on bones.and you would always trail
a gentle fingertip
along my thinly veiled ribs
that rose up to the surface
when i inhaled your world.
i loved the way your hipbones
would protrude with marble glory
as you lay upon your back
and dreamed all the while
we stayed and watched the stars.
it was upon my collarbones
that you left tender trails
of reddish-purple bruises
whose presences made us laugh
in the morning
when we saw your lips' footprints.
the sharp and defined line
of your perfect jaw
always left me speechless
as i watched them hinge
everytime you spoke,
i guess my words
got sucked into your throat.
you said that the bones
in my hand
would always quiver when i got nervous
so you grabbed my fingers
and held them tight
"structure," you whispered;
and now that structure
so maybe when we die
they'll pile our bones together
and grind them into sand
that blows along the
OsteophilicHe loved his bones.
The way they never asked too much of him
or protested his requests.
There was nothing superfluous in their design;
simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.
They were spry, robust
ready to take on the world with
sharp and fluid motions.
His bones were not brittle like she was.
Not so breakable or frail,
not so expendable.
They didn't bend under pressure
or fracture under stress.
He loved his bones -
their ivory purity eased his soul -
and he was proud of the way
they held everything together
She knew one day he'd stomp this
old flame out, long before 'death do us part.'
Cremation had never been part of the plan.
I Loved A GirlI loved a girl – she smelled like August melancholy,
she carried the scent of festival emotions,
tempered by the midnight flames
and fireflies' glow.
I loved a girl – her hair, the gentle hue of embers,
reflected dancing candlelight,
while in her eyes, as brown as mahogany,
I discovered tiny galaxies,
but most importantly – I saw my smile.
I loved a girl – I sensed her heartbeat,
playing to the rhythm of my breath.
Her every word,
imprinted tender cherry blossoms,
onto my soul.
I loved a girl – her lips tasted like morning air
cool against my heavy forehead,
her skin, softer than satin threads,
played games with the waning moonbeams -
its gravity, I could not resist, like the Sun,
cannot escape the zenith, on Summer solstice.
I loved a girl – she made me happy,
and sadly - I love her still.
2. YouI have fallen in love with a poem
the red roses blooming over your
knees, the blue violets threading
and coursing through your veins
I have fallen in love with the haiku
of your fingertips tapping syllables
down my vertebrae five, seven, five
I have pressed my heart like a bookmark
between the curled pages of your body,
free-verse freckles scattered across the
line-break nestled in the gorge between
your clavicle protrusions, stanzas faintly
whistling in the gaps amidst your shaped
ivory teeth, two eyes rhyming with mine;
I have memorised the stream of consciousness
murmured into my mouth as we kiss, as you
whisper spoken word lullabies into the crook
of my arms, hands bracketed around my hips
as if I am the metaphor crafted by your simile
smiling lips; the image ghosting behind words
I start to think we are the closing couplet of a sonnet
but darling if you were a word, god you’d be purple-
love, you are a poem,
etched in an alphabet
that I don’t understand,
that I can
i didn't hold on tight enoughI held onto you
because I was afraid of
letting you go,
but you slipped out
of my arms
when I wasn't looking.
10.04Sometimes I wonder, if I was
beautiful but blue,
withered in the summer wind-
would I blend into the sky
like the clouds drifting between
the rays of sun-
or would I resemble the dark currents
in the night sea
bestowing the sailors with wonder and death
NothingI heard someone sarcastically sputter,
"You are what you eat."
But hearing that sole sentence
allowed me to finally understand
why I am
what I am:
confessions in a crowded placei. When I was with you
I could not write about
love in any tense.
ii. I'm a mess
because of you.
iii. Somedays I think that
I don't remember how
your smile tilted
slightly to the right.
iv. There are more days
when I wish I could forget.
Keep in Touch!
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