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BareRather than conform
To your choice of style--
How you want me to dress,
Or what you think would look good,
I’d choose to go naked
Bare all and show the true me.
Every piercing (oh my!)
Every last scuff and scar,
Every mark, spot and mole.
The cellulite and stretch-marks,
Chipped, uneven nails and the first grey hair,
Slightest creases of wrinkles at eye-corners
Imperfect but true to myself.
I am not your dolly--
I am flesh not plastic,
As much as you might wish otherwise.
To a friend... III was told you wore kilts,
Named yourself after the colour red--
And of course, you ate fire.
You created explosions, and at least twice a year
Set the night-time beach alight.
I spent time disbelieving this until I met you,
And your pyrotechnic personality.
We spoke in depth, put the world to rights,
(And decided not to burn it all down)
Compared books and heartaches.
Scorched by the sun we drank mead
And I hoped I’d made a firm friend.
To a friend...You loved colour--
And unabashedly wore bright purples,
Aqua greens and other garish shades.
You wore top hats,
Curled your moustache,
Donned a zoot-suit
And brought a hearse.
An eccentric collector
Of books, gargoyles and green men.
(not to mention steam-punk trinkets)
Wicked humour, a love of tea,
Fur coats and white boots--
For certain when you were cast,
They shattered the mould-
liberally pouring in charm, roguishness and class,
(with just a dash of a cad and nefariousness) into a human form,
And then left wondering astounded
How so much personality all fitted into one man.
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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