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she talks through her wrinkles,
'i have no desire for food', she says.
i take her plate to the kitchen
noticing how the beetroot shavings bled into the skin of the chicken and brown rice.
it was blood, skin, and bone,
and the rice was a million starlike cells floating between.
this reminds me of my anatomy textbook:
we've been learning what's beneath our skin,
we learned that all cells divide. some cells often don't stop dividing.
other cells divide and stop when they should...
but not my grandmother's.
starlike, they explode, they shatter, they consume
i want to be mad at my grandmother's cells,
but what would that do?
i want to talk to my grandmother's cells,
i want to tell them they can be alive
and not kill her.
i have to catch the moon,
i have to visit hades and bargain with beautiful music,
i have to sell my voice for legs,
i have to sail the ocean blue in search of a good reason why cancer can't just be what it is.
this is not a fabled life
Edgelessit was two in the afternoon
the afternoon sun sparked my room into orange light;
all our edges had blurred;
love, we had no edges at all.
i lay thinking of my summer;
[i smoked too many cigarettes, i didn't kiss you enough,
i broke a heart, i fixed two]
the summer ended a thousand times with every setting sun;
and every time the sun rose, it started again.
the final sun was setting on our summer;
when the afternoon sun sparked my room into orange light;
i thought of collarbones, tired eyes and forevers
and how i want all those edgeless things with you
the onsethe never stood still and it annoyed me that
his resting position was always halfway between a stretch and an unrelenting springing.
i figured the outward restlessness was a manifestation of an inward fear of being still
but he loved yoga and meditation.
he was a contradiction of himself in many ways,
the happiest sad face you'll ever see,
the distraction you can't help but focus on:
he has a lot of thoughts,
he doesn't speak fast enough for them,
then it all catches up with him
Vascillate(july nights are for)
thinking back to when:
i love you
replaced my damaged skin with the sound of the ocean;
replaced my tired eyes with butterflies wings;
replaced my chattering teeth with poetry;
replaced my shaking hands with pieces of the moon.
it was just that simple
(july nights are for)
i miss you
i love you
it was just that simple
(july nights are for)
vacillating futures, hazy promises;
to craft bigger futures and vaster promises for my hungry, destructive mind.
because it's just not simple anymore
(i love you)
july nights are for
turning off my phone when you call
and being alone when you need me the most.
untenable1. it's January-
i'm hearing his voice for the first time on a wednesday.
i'm the new girl at school,
standing awkwardly on the periphery of girls i barely know who were talking to him about late assignments or something.
i'm standing in a shaky, nervous way, waiting to be introduced or acknowledged.
he looked at me once, but i was looking at him the whole time.
i couldn't stop looking at him. later, he would tell me that he liked that about me.
but by the time he was telling me that, i had become too self conscious to meet his eyes as much as i used to.
7. it's July-
things are going wrong, i'm feeling worse more frequently.
we're swapping definitions of love over the phone,
he says: love is the person you always want to be with, no matter what.
i say: i don't think i know what love is.
things are going wrong.
we're talking about the countdown.
2. it's February-
we joke about how good we look together
we jokingly hold hands and take
Sleeplessi'm drowning in a puddle of little extremities
that attack in diminutive dramatic doses.
i'm losing friends,
i'm losing sleep;
a sweeping sunset swiftly burns a pale sky,
i'm melting in a freezer and freezing in the fire
and every feeling cancels out every other feeling.
i'm losing battles,
i'm losing clarity;
the stars burn out and give way to morning.
CataclysmI tend to think emblematic thoughts:
hectically, I think up intricate poems as things are happening,
willfully splitting myself into both bystander and perpetrator.
I do this every time my fingers skim his angular collarbones,
noting their vulnerability under my hurricane fingertips,
my tornadoes of attachment, my storm clouds of indecision, my incessant rain.
I could write about that forever.
He said to me: I think you are incredibly intelligent.
i realize that it's getting harder to write poems about you,
immortalizing you in words that can't even properly describe how much i hate this,
or how much i love you. I realize that
i can't decide which is stronger.
every day more than four million people fly on commercial airlines worldwide,
in over one hundred thousand planes.
reducing you to a part of this statistic doesn't lessen the pull i feel in my chest,
but at least i tried.
and what if, this time, it's not as easy as turning off my phone?
what if i can't just throw you away with everything you gave me?
what if i can't just distance myself from it until it's so small i can swallow it up?
what if i've finally found the pain i have to work through?
if i'm lucky- statistically, i will fall in love seven times before marriage.
you will always be the first.
you will always be the messiest, most confusing, most beautiful, most shocking
it's been roughly one hundred and eighty two days since we met
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
dearly belovedthese days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
Wrists.Wrists are not made,
To be cut up by cold blades.
Blood was meant to stay in your veins,
Not to be drained.
From your body,
You're stronger than that,
I know a person can only take,
Until they break.
And you have your doubts,
And when you lay in bed,
The pain is all you think about.
But you're so much more,
Than your heart aches.
So much more,
Than your demons.
Even if you feel,
Like your dying,
And you are through with trying,
Because all you've been doing lately is crying.
I want you to know,
That no, you're not alone.
And you re going to survive.
Please just drop your knife,
Because you're going to,
Make it out alive.
words, wonderlight has faded and words are heavy,
but there is a delicate magic
twisting between your fingers.
it is all a-scribble
melisma without music;
syllables stitching terra firma
to firmament in intricate
stanzas that require
neither breath nor sound
to echo, infinite,
within the depths
of susurrous souls.
it is cold and it is dark,
but there is a fire in you
and you use it with a fierce grace
that illuminates the shadows,
and ignites the demons
until not even the grey spaces
that haunt and harry
can hold dominion.
they are exposed
they are broken
into shards of sunrise
and rays of a quiet
you scare away the night
with exhalations that blow
away the fogged emptiness
inside, over and over,
sparking fireworks from
what was thought
to be ash.
I Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger TogetherI Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger Together
if i’m being completely honest,
i can’t say i know what you’re goin’ through.
and if i’m being frank,
i’m sort of afraid to write this
because i’ve always been unsure
if i love too much but it’s my nature
and i’d rather lose by trying too hard
than to do so without doing enough.
i hope you’re asleep now
and i hope you don’t read this
till the morning and i hope by then
things will be a little lighter
but i’m hoping against hope
because if you don’t know,
i feel when things are off.
call it intuition, call it a feelin’,
say i just know it.
my friend, my door is always open
even when you’re feeling closed
off to the world and right there,
i can understand that feeling well,
because i still feel we relate to one another
better than most brothers understand their sisters.
know i look at you as a sibling
and i believe we know when the other
Sleepless part IIyou were a lot of sleepless nights in february,
because we took an anticlimactic walk in the onset of rain.
we didn't know how to speak to each other,
so we played tennis with frustrated little sighs.
you were the sleepless nights in march,
because i was writing about you, and i never used to write.
we sat down on my swing set,
we talked with raised voices between too-long pauses.
you were sleepless nights in april
when the messy kisses stopped being so volatile, so mercurial.
even when we stopped sighing and fighting,
i never slept quite the same as i used to.
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