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jugendliche.i.) die Bekennende
Du bist meine Liebe, meine Engel in der Nacht.
Die Sonne scheint so hell fuer uns, du kuesst mich und sagt,
"Kannst du bitte halt mein Hand?"
Ich kuesse dich, weil ich weiss ich kann.
Ich hoffe, du weisst, du bist wirklich schoen.
Alles, ich kann sagen ist "ich brauche dich so gern."
Meine Liebe fuer dich ist sehr gross, ich bitte zu sein.
Immer Ihren Liebling, damit du mein sein.
ii.) die Sehnsucht
Sie ist so viel staerker als ich.
Sie leuchtet den Raum und ich fuehle mich
Als wuerde ich tiefer fallen in der Liebe.
Ich denke, das sind Liebhaber oder Taschendiebe?
Aber sie ist so anders, so perfekt und Art ist.
Es scheint, sie fühlt sich nicht Zwist.
Ich will nur ihre Hand zu Halten,
Aber das ist nicht etwas, was ich ganz einfach verwalten.
Sie hat eine andere, obwohl sie liebt mich mehr
Und ich weiss, ich liebe sie ebensosehr.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1chapter four
“is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk.
“what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.”
“well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time.
“what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life. that’s the most peculiar thing to ever come out of your mouth.” i was avoiding eye contact. keillan’s got this way of making you feel totally at ease with even the most uncomfortable of topics. i guess it’s a good trait to have.
“okay, you guys are always talking about
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1Chapter Three
The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine.
“You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me.
“You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything.” I was terrified, not that she had seen, but that she had shown our parents.
“Au contraire, my dear sister,” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I especially liked the one of you smashing a beer bottle into Mrs. McCartney’s heirloom china vase.”
“Brin, you wouldn’t dare,
fresh.don't look at me.
every time you do i see her.
you look just like her, but
shorter thinner sweeter
younger. you are so much younger.
you're nowhere near as naive.
innocent is not in your expansive
vocabulary. your voice is both
agonizing and intoxicating.
we used to lie next to each
other, hold hands and harmonize.
you held me when i cried
and laughed at my cheesy jokes.
now you have gone. you don't
even speak to me, no choral context.
but you look at me. and you smile.
and you make me feel so fresh,
don't ever leave my side.
a memoir of a butterfly.her memory is like a dead mockingbird.
something so beautiful, but remnants
scatter in the wind, unable to
comprehend whether it was deserved
perishing or a mistake.
will you remember in twenty
years, or twenty months, twenty
goddamn seconds, or will she
fade like the fluttering feathers
of the bird shot down in anguish?
can you kiss yourself goodnight
because her butterflies will never
again land on your fleshy lips?
laugh to keep from crying, cry
to keep for being numb,
pretending her presence was
that of a ghost inside a dream.
cover your wrists in gauze and
guilt to prevent moral infection,
feign disinterest when she bites
her lips, don't crave to be the
one biting back, because you'll
only be chewing yourself out.
don't look directly at her, she
is a sapphic eclipse, tease
me with your sloping neck,
tease me with your impeccable
jawline, hazel eyes and
crooked nose, a sweet breathiness
achieved by her trembling,
raspy alto, how i want to
press my mouth to hers and utter
the cure for romantic epilepsy is you.lighthearted heartthrobs
leave me tenderhearted for
the moment, callously discarded
when the brokenhearted relapses
occur and my heartache is just
a simple subtraction amongst
the breakage and blood pumping.
can you heal me? can you heal you?
do you know how to divide me
into the good, the bad, and the
parts that get too clingy?
can you tell me what it is
that keeps you clinging?
your body is like a metronome,
and i just want to move
to your tempo, you envelope
me with your beautiful
lyricism and lips like a rose.
hands hold like roping soliloquies
of the what-ifs and what-nows,
they're clenching like we're
on a roller coaster and i just
want to hold on to you, if
i could kiss you would i be
considered lucky or a casualty?
i want to peruse the inky pages
of your loitered soul, picking
up the pieces because something
as beautiful as you doesn't
deserve to be littered.
all i want you to do is stand
near me, not even next to me,
because the glow of your glower
is gorgeous even in your mos
drowned.this ice is getting thinner
and i keep feeling like i'm
about to fall through. i just
wanted you to envelope me in
your harmony, sweet kisses
making the syncopation
between broken glass and
heart pieces, shattered
with lips uttering breathlessly.
i wanted to be warmed by
the sound of your melodies,
you told me of my beauties
and i believed you, remember
that my soul is fragile and
that suicide and silence
start and end the same way.
keep in mind when you told
me how much you cared and
how much i hope you realized
at this point the water is
freezing and i can't swim.
love like remission.everybody says that
i'm a specific type. i
think that's just an
excuse to say there's
really no chance i can
ever be loved. keep saying
that i'm beautiful, keep
saying that i'm good.
do you really think i
believe any of that? i'm
trying to turn a new
page, cleanse the wounds
she caused me, and now
i don't know which way
to turn because neither
path is paved for me and
neither door is open. i
wish i could say it was
easy but i can feel it
coming back, steadily like
a creeping animal ready
to pounce on my freshly-
healed heart and soul.
everyone says i have a type.
i believe that in a
heartbeat because each
heart that beats next to
mine is sweet in the melody.
i don't have my choice of
the picking but i can
pretend to be free of this
illness, relapsing on
romanticism and using stoicism
as a crutch, this wall i
put up can be broken down
by whoever's love is strong
enough. someone, take my hand
and lead me through the disease.
historically inaccurate documents-i-
you were perfect.
i could not look directly
at your flare, your lace,
i learned to love and blush
in that moment.
there are eight planets
and each one orbits
i am the first person to name
this cluster of stars
for the handful of freckles
on your arm
that it mirrors.
and i am also
you are the gleaming envy
of every viewer. you stand
bathed in worship-worthy
nervous ticks that only i
not a single other being
in our plane
is made of matter.
you alone are real
and we are the shatters
of the echoes
your breathing makes.
cusped quasars sync
portals swarming out of
sinusoidal orders. ornate
soils storing digitized loyalties
of lovers purring potently.
potential switched kinetic
all times are ours
and all dimensions follow
all rhymes involve
and all tensions swallow
we're all right
in all beds
with all words
like the length
of our lives,
we are withou
Bitlets 158She can’t decide to ask him
picking the petals of forget-me-nots:
he likes me,
he forgives me not.
PetalsI pull off a petal
"He loves me."
His smile is the galaxy I live and breathe in.
I pull off a petal.
And when he can't make time for me, that's okay.
He makes up for it in his kisses.
I pull off a petal.
The other girls don't matter
Because he comes home to me.
It hurts a little but I deal with it
Because he is the sun and the stars.
I pull off a petal.
He may ignore me sometimes
But deep down I know he cares.
I pull off a petal.
I'm hurting, but I need him.
He's the only one in my head.
He's the air in my lungs.
I pull off a petal.
"He loves me not."
In TuneI breathe in time with the rise and fall of your chest.
When our fingers lace, they hold tight for hours.
You don't just finish my sentences
I swear you read my mind.
We're a well oiled machine.
Like the ebb and flow of the sea.
We're becoming one body, one soul.
You and me.
We're meant to be.
Our UniverseHere we are in our mundane universe.
We stand underneath the night sky
And gaze up at the stars.
We are two small specks of dust
Attached to each other by tangled fingers.
My toes wiggle deeper into the sand
As I watch you splash around in the warm water.
Sometimes it's hard to believe there's a universe out there.
But we'll see it someday.
Together, hand in hand,
We will explore this huge galaxy.
We will make our own discoveries.
We will search for adventure
All the while we hold tightly to each other.
Because I see the universe in your eyes and your heart.
Because no matter how far we go
We'll still be two little dots
Lying on that beach
Aguila negra: preludioTres años atrás te vi por primera vez
pero era demasiado timida para hablarte
de modo que solo te contemplaba desde lejos
y te seguía a escondidas, no quería asustarte.
Al principio hablamos limitadas ocasiones
te veía muy poco pero en mi mente
siempre estabas presente,
a cada segundo
a cada instante,
era inevitable recordarte...
Hasta que un día, después de mucho esperar
me armé de valor y me acerqué a charlar,
no sabía si era una buena idea
pero ya no podía aguardar la espera
Tu mirada tan dulce
tu sonrisa angelical
hicieron que me derritiera
que se nuble mi pensar
Al día siguiente me escribiste,
me preguntaste si quería salir
yo muy emocionada
dije sin pensar "¡si!"
Disfrutamos de la danza
de un cielo estrellado
bebiendo te bajo el árbol
me estrechaste un abrazo
La miel es más dulce
cuando la pruebo de tus labios
las noches son más frías
cuando no estoy a tu lado
Intentamos tomarnos una foto
domain and range mean nothing before 10 amshe made worlds on tuesday mornings
not bothering to listen or take notes but instead
looking down onto the numbers and letters at her fingertips
and drawing the square roots and functions up in her mind
graphing virtual abstracts of you that
her unsteady hands lacked the deftness to create in her notebook.
she had tried a thousand times, though,
sharpening the pencil over and over
and adjusting this exponent and that denominator to get nearer to your curvature
in hopes of a more accurate depiction
in hopes of a smaller margin of error
but she ran out of lead faster than your face ran through her head
and erasers and echoed lines
are flimsy compensation for such an injustice to your irresponsible perfection.
so she forewent paper
instead latching tight onto the afterimage
which contained a calm, unstirred world
where the cream in her coffee spiraled into art and froze mid-oblivion
where the clicks of locks on doors meant
nothing more than solitude
with her thoughts
where your navy-and-
highschool heartsnew faces, old faces
faces we think we see
faces we wish we would never see again
laughs out loud
proclamation of feelings
sitting at the red table
coffee in hand
smiling so faintly
you joke so inappropriately
but not at that
how oblivious love is
how oblivious our lives are now
and pretty brown eyes
that glint in your eye when i blabber on
your pretty lips
i promised i'd stay on my studies
but i'd rather be studying chemistry
One nightOne night, I can be with you.
I don't have to look at the moon
anymore; hoping that you will be
looking too. The stars dance
around the moon like all those
other girls do, because they want
to be with you.
Envy begins to the poison that
sets into my veins; how any of
those girls could make you feel
like you've found the one but I'm
just going to be that girl that
sits on the side wishing that
you could love me.
You won't even know anything about
me but, I know so much about you,
my dear. The way that you smile the
definition of happiness, to the way
your voice plays a symphony that is
I begin to fall in love with you
all over again, like I did before.
Nothing could make me feel so safe
and warm in a cocoon except for you;
looking at me with those blue eyes
that are brighter then the ocean
itself making it jealous of you.
Your HandsI remember when your hands
Were intertwined with mine,
Twisting, turning, constant
Yearning to know exactly
What this was, this feeling
I'm learning to cope with.
I never liked holding hands,
For in the hands the heart
Is held, folding fingers
Over one another's was never
That appealing to me, but you.
You kept my head reeling,
Returning for more, I would
Soar as your hands wrapped
'Round my body, discerning
Why this felt so new, a few
Had called me cute before,
Why is it different when
You say I'm beautiful?
Now, it's all changed, it's
Over, you were the reason
I felt this switch, a changing
Season, you said the words,
"I love you." You said it to
Me, you see, I take things
Like that pretty seriously.
You caused me such grief, a
Relief now knowing you aren't
As great as you think you are,
I'm far changed from those days,
I don't hate you. But I don't
Miss you, or to kiss you. I was
Happy to dismiss you, but I miss
Your hands intertwined with mine.
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