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SilentIn the silence
Your eyes do the talking;
Yet, you remain mute,
Mill-pond calm on the surface,
Unable to speak the truths
That I see boiling inside,
The Tumult of your soul-
Only lies spilling from a forked tongue.
--But I want your anger.
--I want your hate.
Then I want all of your truths,
So I can finally let you go
And you can remove your mask.
Outside the linesGifted with magic,
Creativity pouring from your veins;
Into your fingers and speech,
--your every breath and heartbeat,
As you moved outside the lines and boxes.
Splashes of colour in a grey world,
--brightness for dulled eyes.
Willingness to remain unaccepted,
If it meant remaining true to yourself.
ClashingCherry sweet lips;
Offering only bitter words and sour kisses.
Your mercurial emotions just leave me steely,
You the dreamer-
And me the insomniac.
SkirmishThis was never a fair fight.
You commanded an arsenal;
Any weapon of choice at your disposal,
I remained unarmed-- except for wit,
And used that alone to cut you down-
Before you could fire a single shot.
More or less...The longer we spend together-- I wonder
Are we becoming more
Or are we less in this pairing?
Once, we were unique;
Now one of us pales
Somehow lessened in existance
becoming just an extention of the other...
MaroonedYou left me high and dry.
Only marginally better than leaving me floundering,
Or desperately gasping like a landed fish,
I was stranded--
While you spend your time drifting here and there,
Dipping your toes into the shallows,
Toying with the surf - just like you toyed with my emotions.
But remember; The tides turn.
Be careful not to get caught in the swell,
It will pull you down like a shipwreck.
The sea is not so merciful as I--
And I won’t sink and drown just yet.
We become ships passing;
And I will sail again and cast my nets.
I will add-- in hindsight,
When I caught you
I should have thrown you back.
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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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