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A Question of WorthA Question of Worth
i'm begging myself to give up.
i'm begging you to pretend.
the wash of days, the pain of
your eyes, is poisonous.
i am furious. i want to loathe you.
i am heartbroken. i only want love.
the burden of these emotions
seems to be rotting me away.
i wish i could have saved myself.
i wish i would have ignored it:
the cascading volume of your
voice: like a stereo in my memory.
i've been running in place, my love,
and you've begun to resemble a curse
rather than a sweet opportunity.
please, someone end this hurt.
hatred begins to plague me.
if i can't love you, anger will help
to cleanse your rubble from my heart.
you're not worth it. you're not worth it.
Happy RebirthdayHappy Rebirthday
you said no.
i finally stood up
from the shadows,
and you said no.
we were on the eve
of a glorious morn.
now our morning
is my mourning.
my hands shook
and my gaze averted
from the deep pools
of your sacred eyes.
and as you made
no move to stop,
i followed you to the
door. it closed on me.
the answers aren't real.
you haven't given me all
of what i wanted yet.
i demand a better ending.
i am so tired of the drag
and drop of the sun
through the days i wait
for you to come around.
oh yeah. oh yeah."
fade. a new song begins.
Classics of the UnrequitedClassics of the Unrequited
unreachable one of my tortured heart,
don't mock me with your glances.
when our eyes meet, there is only less
hope in my head left for us.
i've come to see that behind my planning,
behind the "maybe" and the "tomorrow",
i am deathly afraid of you. so please,
come to me only with affection.
this is my second winter of hunting.
you are gorgeous, my prey. you are wild.
and through the ivory, clouded winds,
my hands tremble only to hold you.
it's too cliché, isn't it? perfect in flaw.
you're the football player with your pack
of ravenous little minions: friends,
and i am alone.
and so i wait. and i watch. and i wait.
the days filter through the hallway windows
and rest their heads on the pains panes.
my cold, dry patience fades to hopelessness.
deep beneath it all, i know it won't end well.
i know you're going to tear my heart
and leave me forever unrequited.
i know that one day i will despise you.
do you even care?
why is it t
Twelve Moments In The Dead Of Summer1. The sunlight glistens on her wet skin as she's walking towards the beach. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his life and even if the words seem to dry up in his throat, he knows what he is going to do next.
2. It hasn't rained for months now so it only takes a small spark from the cigarette to set the undergrowth on fire. On the first sign of fire they panic and run, never to look back but to remember years later, in nightmares, the crazy old man who lived in the shack nearby and was never seen since.
3. They lay together on the grass, watching the sun slowly go down behind the treeline. He takes her hand, old, wrinkled and frail into his, and whispers: "I would give up everything I have for one more summer like this". She responds: "Darling, you already did that years ago". They burst into giggles, just like the one he was supposed to take her dancing for the first time and got lost on the way, and it seems that all these years haven't changed anything at all.
4. The thorn
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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