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Not you, but me
Not you, but me
I've crossed every stone,
A trail through the bay to your heart.
Tossed among sunken ships,
Just a wreck in your deepest harbor.
You're the coral I cut my knee on
And the salt in its wound.
I swam over you at low tide,
Should have known not to.
Torn at the seam,
No comfort in the folds.
Just an old towel hanging out
On the porch to dry.
I'm a stagnant bay,
sand trapped under my tongue.
No words to undo.
You drew a line as you
walked away from me.
Further and further,
A distant island hidden by the clouds.
My heart is tethered
between wrought iron
and quick tempers
In the house, a man was waiting:
silver skin, sharp chin
eating the remains with his corbeau mouth
My cloaked heart slips through the gate,
and past March, April, June
my palms are stained with the smell of rust,
dust and rotting wood under my tongue,
unopened mail behind each rib
What's heavy will hurt.
I took a small boat away
Half way there
I lost my oars
Flung and tossed like a child
into the channel
"Are you afraid of what's below?"
you're just froth below the horizon.
you're just a speck in time
The dark whale should swallow me whole,
but instead I lay my head in the day's end,
like resting on warm thighs
My mother's own.
An owlWhen I was younger
We moved into the new house
my father built.
In the evening an owl flew in.
With heavy wings
it threatened us,
cutting through the dark
with hardly any room for flight.
My sister and I
held our breath
and played dead until my
father came home.
When he saw us he laughed
while we lay still
and then opened all the windows
to let it fly out.
the poisoned branch,
I pulled myself up on
to see another.
now an ant nest in my heart
you stepped in and
By myselfWhen I'm alone
I steal pieces of night.
Without another to share,
I eat by myself.
The meat is spoilt.
Only acid in my throat when I wake.
without a goodbyethis is the last time.
just empty space and time passing
I am at the other end of the room,
and you have opened all the windows
and doors to let yourself out.
the netI'm rot.
Was sliced at the gill,
thrown near the rocks
under sun and flies.
Flesh exposed, a little girl with no t shirt on.
Dead amongst scavengers.
lost my armor all scattered like
and soaked into the stone.
Swam into the net.
Thought it would get me there fast.
My life through the glass,
a million pieces scattered (splinters in my thumbs)
A spectrum (colours of fear)
Forced through me like knives.
Here, smoke and doubt intersects false light.
A journey queued. Where I had begun.
This time alone
What am I fighting for?
When Stars CollapseThis is how you bespeckled my bones
with bewilderment: you kissed hushed heart
whispers and slumbering secrets
into my fingertips. You infused awe
into my joints, causing me
to ask how snowflakes got their
shape and how long would it take
to get from the Sun to Capella.
You taught me that energy is neither
created or destroyed; stars do not die.
Eyes washed with emerald sorrows you
told me that they evolve, they change
into something entirely different,
or not so different.
I now know we are made of the same
particles as someone or something else.
We began someplace together.
We're made of so much more than "star-stuff",
we are made of each other.
In a world with no mercy
Day after day
Until the end
The day I die
And then maybe
I'll find some peace
The Breaths Between Usi'm minutes away
from the collision site
the breaths between us
and the lost time
clock guts, sprung
our hallway uncoils
his walnut lean
i'm seconds away
from the before
of our near-miss
the beads of air
and the imperfections of
in a rumored heart
a stuttering mass
this broken belled
has lost hold
of the lives we live
its skullsong rings
the same vibration
I am me. Who are you?I am fragments
of every person
I've met; every
memory made; every
bond formed and tie broken.
I am an orchestra
of people's opinions;
each snide comment
each casual remark
each passing compliment
I am a library
of forgotten lies
and fake smiles
and empty promises.
I am a sky of hope;
filled with stars
which carry the wishes
of the people I have encountered
I am never alone
for their influence will forever
taint my soul and
remind me of their hopes,
dreams and pain.
This is who I am.
Who are you?
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
on remembering to breathe:i.
you can't hold it in for forever.
your lungs weren't
made to bear the weight
of this world, they weren't made
to left unexpanded
and unexplained -
it is not phenomenon that wakes you
when paralysis hits in the
night, it is physiology telling you that
not everything happens on automatic, okay?
(at least not for always)
you're born like a time bomb, with
only so many beats of
your heart in place to tick away day by day -
your words, they're the same.
there's a time limit
on your tongue, so say something that
means something - use words
that dig in and rip out hearts, use words that
curl around your fingers and worm their
way into your soul.
use words to make something
beautiful. something remembered.
never leave three things
left unsaid because they can be three
words that mean everything -
i'm not telling you to save your breath.
i'm begging you not to waste it.
sing. sing enough to take your breath
away because even though
it leaves you gasping, it fills up that
That rebuilding trust is difficult
Would be an understatement of the highest order.
It's a lot like relearning how to walk.
With each small step,
I keep thinking I'll fall--
And I may--
But I haven't yet.
My heart and left leg
Throb in protest,
But there's a certain joy in progress
That keeps me moving forward.
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