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an anthology of childhood loves.when i was three, i dressed up as cinderella.
it was a warm october night in the hills of south carolina,
where scorpions basked in the garden and daddy once killed a rattlesnake in the kitchen.
i remember momma tying a bow on my dress and taking sixteen pictures.
i was a gap toothed little blond with a plastic tiara and dreams in my eyes.
i made my friend mark be my prince charming.
i remember looking over, suddenly shy, and wondering if we would get married one day.
when i was five, we moved away.
that was my first little taste of heartbreak.
it didn't last long, though.
my next memory is standing on my new driveway,
peering past the moving van to a girl with curly gold hair and hazel eyes.
when the moving van pulled away, she ran across the street and shook hands with me.
she told me her name was bella.
i told her i had a dog, and she told me she had an american girl doll.
we were two happy little blond girls and people thought we were sisters when we went to the pool.
i started kin
help.i am a dysphoric mess of
dry eyes and clenched fists and lots
of nights beating the hell out of walls and
the punching bag in the basement and scabby
knuckles and aching muscles and oh god i really
just really wanna get straight to sleep this time because what
the hell am i am i a girl am i a guy and now my knuckles are bleeding
and i miss you and a week isn't long to wait really but for me it is eternity because i
am a fucking mess and i wanna go home and sleep but sweetheart you're already at
home my mother says and i shake my head and say that's not what i mean, mother
so i never went back.i
lately, the curve of your shoulderblades
has been tattooed on the insides of my eyelids,
and the weight of your heart has settled alongside mine
in my chest, like it's found a home.
your eyes would fly if they could,
just grey enough to make you think pigeon
and just blue enough to make you think bluebird.
if my feet were lighter and i weren't weighed down by the chains
of sorrow and tiredness and scars,
i would follow you into the sky.
i made you a dreamcatcher with bluejay feathers on it.
a gold (not really, but it looks pretty) key charm hangs from it,
flanked by beads and feathers and fluttering ribbons.
its intricate design reminds me of you,
and now- funny thing-
i can't bear to let it go,
because i feel that to give it to you
would be to lose a piece of you.
in the four a.m. darkness,
i think i hear you whispering to me,
but that's impossible.
we are separated by miles and miles
and by people that will never understand us.
sort of like a modern-day r
hero.she never saw it coming at all.
well, maybe she did, she was the one that held the knife but
she never thought it would really happen.
she was the kind of girl that drank the stars with her eyes,
flying away on wings of paper and dreams,
and during the day held her screams in behind carmine lips,
keeping her nails wrapped in band-aids so she couldn't hurt herself.
it's all right it's all right it's all right it's all right all right all right
because nobody can have it all
and sometimes the only time she thought she could smile
was with the help of a knife.
all she wanted was to be happy but somehow
her psyche always worked against her.
open wide here comes original sin
she's the hero of the story doesn't need to be saved
theh ero of the story
her oof thes tory
it's all right its allright its al right its alright right its alright it salrigh
and the only way she felt she could save herself
was by giving up
lace.i have seventeen dreamcatchers hanging in my room.
i suppose it's overkill;
i'm never going to achieve my dreams anyway.
but i keep making them.
looping the yarn tightly around the small hoop, tying it off,
then taking the needle and thread
(black for despair, white for hope;
my room has shadows and black lace cast over it now)
stitch stitch stitch with looping swirls
like i'm sewing the pieces of my mind back together.
i tie off the last loop when the lacy stitches
have knitted closer together than often-broken bones
in a hospital bed.
i hang the latest dream above my bed.
when i wake up, bolting up from a nightmare with monsters on my tail,
i hit my head on it.
and frozen waterfalls.late last night, i tried to talk you down off of
that high built from nicotine and caffeine and hollows under your eyes,
that sense that something is wrong.
i told you about skies we can swim in
and the lakes that will let us fly.
i waxed poetic about neighborhood parks and the tigers at the zoo.
how in the spring, we can go to both
and be that couple everyone is jealous of.
it worked. i think.
just in case it didnt,
i told you that i love you and i wouldn't be able to survive without you
and that you have saved my life more times than you know.
i told you the real reason i keep my nails bitten down
and have never worn shorts around you
and never take off my thick bracelets.
i talked about my anxiety and depression and the monsters that claw inside my stomach
just like the ones you have.
i told you about the razors in the bathroom
and the fifteen woodworking blades in the basement workshop.
i bared my soul to you, love,
and you told me you'll stop smoking, start eating,
and keep loving
act 1: the boulevard, or, herJessie had eyes that sometimes thought they were green and sometimes thought they were brown. That night, they were in one of their depressed moods and had decided to take on the semblance of minty chocolate to make themselves feel better. If they could eat themselves, they would have. Jessie herself, however, was just as intensely, determinedly happy as usual. She skipped on every second step and her smile crackled with energy; since i flatly refused to skip with her, she would skip ahead a few feet and then turn around, pale yellow-white hair flying in the half-light from the streetlamps and storefronts, and wait for me to catch up. Our parents thought we were at a mutual friend's house, sleeping over. We'd decided to skip it. We were eighteen, after all, and it was the summer after high school, that last possible summer where you can really be a kid before having to decide what you want to do and who you want to be. College applications had been sent out, but with one girl that want
prisoner 2873.she grabbed my hands
and wrapped them around her waist,
making me slow-dance with her
right there on the boulevard
in the pouring rain.
it's on her bucket list,
to be a scene in a movie.
this is the opening credit.
baby, she said, let me tell you something.
i've got a fist full of dreams and a guitar pick in my pocket
and a head full of you.
that don't sound much like living to me, baby.
run away with me
and let's make a life.
she blinked raindrops off her eyelashes
and looked at me with melting brown eyes.
baby, she said, come with me?
how could i say no?
she squealed and kissed me in the pool of golden light
under the lamppost on the boulevard.
we were two silly girls twined around each other and drunk on love.
we'd make a perfect movie, i think,
she told me. and i guess we would.
hollywood would love this story.
six months living on the road,
just two kids living the rebel dream.
we drove across the country,
jessie headbanging to the soundtrack of the 80's
and rocking the
Darling, Don't You DareTo the girl who skips dinner,
Because her reflection hurts more than
To the boy who wears sweatshirts
On hot summer days,
Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his
To the boy who weeps uncontrollably
Until he falls asleep,
Because it’s the only way to escape into his
To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,
Because the dark is more peaceful than her
To the child who gets angry,
Because no one understands.
To the teens who self-harm,
To the ones in recovery,
To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…
For the girl who skips meals
And the boy who wears sweatshirts,
For the boy who cries,
The girl who hides,
And the ones who just can’t do it anymore.
You’ve come this far.
Don’t you dare give up on it, now.
I am the daughter of a sailor.There is pure sea water
rushing through my veins
& my vocabulary can be
just as colorful.
how do I begin to tell you
we all have jungles growing
in our chests?-
by human hands?
I like to pretend
it’s Draco residing
in this chest of mine-
clogging my lungs,
I have forgotten
how to write
or anything with a shred
I have no space left within myself
for celestial, fire breathing dragons-
because I realize now
when I look in the mirror,
I do not see my father.
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
You're Not DepressedDepression isn’t what you think it is.
You’re just sad.
If you and your boyfriend or girlfriend just broke up, you’re not depressed.
If you are longing to be with that one girl or boy, you’re not depressed.
If you really want to meet that one celebrity, you’re not depressed.
If you haven’t gotten a text from any of your friends all day and want to talk to someone, you’re not depressed.
If you cried in the shower last night because you want that guy to be your boyfriend,
Or sat on your bed last night with your face in your hands wanting to be with that one girl,
You’re not depressed.
Until you have hated yourself,
Felt no self-worth,
Felt like you’d never amount to anything
And are useless,
You want to lie in bed all day and do nothing but think,
Think you are never good enough for anyone,
Don’t deserve anyone,
Lost any interest in drawing, writing, reading, singing, etc…
You don’t want to be around anyone, just by
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
Let me dieGo away
Leave me alone
And let me die
Of this world
I don't want to live
Because there's no light
At the end of this tunnel
So I'll just end my life
Don't try to stop me
And we'll meet again
On the other side
Outside this dark tunnel
I am afraid of monsters like you.Bones and sinew cling
to the part of me
that is not human,
the part of me that
Your lips are ready
to pounce mine when
you lace my neck with
the collar of hope.
It hangs too tightly.
Only GirlsOnly Girls can suffer from weight loss,
can cut and cut until their blood is all gone.
Only girls can cry out their angry emotions,
and watch them pool from their eyes like the raging oceans.
Emotions are qualities reserved for women women only,
without them, what men would bask in their glory.
Only women can abort an unwanted fetus,
when a man mourns his lost child, he's nothing but a bigoted sexist.
Only girls can wear their hair long,
put on cake loads of make up, and twirl their hips to a song.
Strip down in public to your bra and underwear,
only girls will get angry when their objectified by eyes everywhere.
Only girls can swallow the pills,
because boys are never depressed, they only grow ill.
Only a woman can claw at her defenseless husband,
and when he tries to defend himself, he's considered little to nothing.
Cry 'sexual-harassment' in the midst of your workplace,
only girls can get away with this, when nothing was done to them in the first place.
Abuse is impossible if it ha
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.
flittermice on a racetrack.have i ever told you that you make me smile?
high praise, i know, coming from me,
it's high praise indeed because i have a jumbled
up head and you make me smile and i
maybe even found someone who will stay this
time and maybe i even found someone who
will love me as much as i love them (it
slipped out that night you almost gave
up, almost threw in the towel, almost took the
pills you've been saving) and i know
i wouldn't be able to live without you and
i know i may have to and darling, it
scares me it fucking scares me.
just listen to that... my heart is racing like millions of
butterflies are trapped and running around a ferris wheel
screaming let me out let me
out because my head is jumbled up and i need
you near me and your arms around me and my hands in
your hair and darling your new haircut looks
fine and do you really think i would
leave you over something so silly as
botched bangs and shorter hair?
because no matter how much you fluster
me oh god i dont know how
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