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leaf in my heartI will place you in my heart like a leaf blowing in the wind, as my heart beats the little leaf in my heart will float around loving you with every beat.
You made me beautiful to myself,
you made me pretty to my vision of me not for all the world but for myself,
you cared enough to know,
you cared enough to want to know,
you cared enough to let me see who i am through you love,
you understand me, and you love me know other way but for who i am,
you let me shine threw my inner beauty,
you made me see things i didn't know existed
you helped me to paint the world with more knowledge,
and still to this day you are thousands of miles away,
but you my dearest sit at the thrown of my heart forever more,
and you my dear one even though it will be eternity that we ever touch again,
you are my true love forevermore.
A unlit candle lay in the snow of unforgotten the wax depleted, the wick short and all is evaporated out of the jar of once warmth. The wick and the wax was overcome in the middle of the night, when no one was around, it was smothered out by the darkness, and the jar was left smoldering on the stove left empty and alone. The lit flame was a voice that pierced the night the words danced in the ears of life and was fed by a inner peace of love and completeness.
The little flame voice asked over and over again for friend ship to not be left alone, but no matter what the little flame did, or asked it was not heard. Life took turns and things changed but the little flame was a comfort it was lit over and over again, people taking what was needed, easy to take but hard to give back. The feeling left behind was of questions why? where do you turn alone, and who do you tell?
The little candle was throw-ed out into the cold snow bank feeling useless, icy cold, and nothing to offer. In the end t
Life and the leaf.
I came to this earth like a leaf in a pod.
I entered out of the womb like the leaf that began to grow.
Everyone loved to look at me, and they enjoyed the newness of the newly born child, just like we love to see the season change into spring.
I was taken care of from my parents, with love and nurturing, just like the little leaf that had sunlight, and water that helped to make it grow.
I was full of energy, and glowed with delight.
I grew into something beautiful, so young and full of dreams, like a leaf in the summertime, so green and full of life.
I lived my life working hard trying to do what is right, living on my dreams, and my beautiful vision of life, just like the leaf that was stuck in the sun, in the middle of August into summer sun, life was not perfect and i got bruised along the way. I began to see you have to be tough along the way.
I had a family, and i worked it seemed all day, just like the leaf that was part of a tree, standing beside the mother bird that fed her bab
SilenceSilence is more powerful than any word spoken.
Silence is the most expressive statement a human can make.
Silence can be read thru a persons eyes from across a room.
Silence is the truth or a lie.
Silence is your friend or your enemy.
Silence is a human watching observing your actions without a word.
Silence is wisdom.
Silence is a statement.
Silence is peace.
Silence is wonder.
Silence is inner acceptance.
Silence is a secret.
Silence makes decisions.
Silence is a virtue.
Silence is peace.
Silence bring thought.
Silence pain behind a smile.
Silence is the beginning or end to a storm.
Silence is a snail that moves along the ground.
Silence is the growth of a tree 100 years and passing.
Silence is the attack before a strike.
Silence is Creation growing inside a mothers womb.
silence is a the sun rays shining on the earth.
Silence is the is the words we tell our self's
Silence can be the most sensual touch.
I have learned that silence speaks louder than words, and holding your silence is
leafsSilently i fall to the earth.
silently letting you walk on by.
I lay there silently as i change from youth to old, my colors fading and my edges torn.
I let the rain fall upon my face and the mud cover parts of me.
I'm walked upon and pushed into the earths surface.
I was once looked upon as a welcoming season of change i was pretty to the eye.
Now i lay here as the season ends with mud upon my face, and pushed into the earth.
My outer appearance is torn and turned brown and now im not noticed anymore!
The many voices of value.
How can you value possessions if you cant take them with you?
How can you value what you have if you always look for more?
How can you value money if you don't spend it wisely?
How can you value effort it it never takes action?
How can you value a opinion if it is expressed wrong way?
How can you value pride if it stands in your way?
How can you value a question if you don't find the answer?
How can you value of a book if your forget what you read?
How can you value of freedom of speech if you don't use it?
How can you value change if you don't make into something better?
How can you value your beliefs if you don't stand up for your beliefs?
How can you value expectations if you don't place it where it can be achieved?
How can you value the worlds suffering if things seem to get worse?
How can you value earth if we don't take care of it?
How can you value time if you can never get it back?
How can you value age if you don't use your wisdom?
How can you value gossip if the story keeps c
nosy peopleHave you ever watched someone who is nosy?
Do they even know what they look like?
Do they really even care?
The go around judging everything and gossiping cant wait to tell someone what they saw or how they feel. They cant seem to function with out having to know what is going on!
Oh mY God did you see that? ooooo that was so not what i would do!!!!!
Thats wrong, don't you think you could have done it this way?
It also seems they always try to be perfect dress well, smile a lot but really what it looks like to many is that you are not perfect your just plain nosy ready to gossip and really in the end who really cares what you have to say? only ones who listen are people just like them confused and lost!
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
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