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The UnbornIn the midst of nothing
there is a need of something
in the loneliness of the night
there is a hunger for being together
in the bed of lies
there is a peace of mind
in the world of dreams
life wants to live
the warmth of your blood
intertwines with the sighs of my heart
the illusion of your mind
thrives in the life of my blood
morning seems to be blessed
with the awakening of your eyes
the cries of an unborn soul
find solace in the existence of yours.
Selfish GesturesThe pain of my soul
feels the healing touch of yours
the missing needs of mine
find its answers in yours
the fear of losing myself
draws me close to yours
I wonder where the roads ends
leaving me watching you fly on. . . .
Moments of truthYour heart beats like falling rain
Your eyes wander in the skies
The hollowness of your heart fills with desire
The odor of your body spreads fragrant in the air
Time stops as you breathe
The joy of orgasm pours down on you
I look with wonder in my eyes
The truth of nature unfolds its wings
AngelYou are a dream that awakens me
You make me feel like I am flying into life
You are a mystery of ripened nature
Exotic, mystical, beautiful
Like the star-bathed night
The warmth of your blood
Intoxicates me to the extent of madness
I wander in your eyes
In search of the me that I lost.
Two draped figuresAlthough they stand beside each other,
they are separated by their skin, not fused.
Shoulder to shoulder without touching
they divert their eyes
and drape themselves in sheets
like vacant houses,
haunting apartments and summer homes
where rooms have become barren deserts
and the bleached walls retain no color.
We have seen them in the rain weeping,
averting their faces
or silently crying for help
with their backs turned away from their mates.
Although they are invalids,
do not take care of them.
Do not salute them.
Do not offer them a seat in your home.
The widow dreamSHE WAFTS THROUGH THE HALLWAYS
at midnight, her body
swollen beneath a thin robe.
Each year widowhood grows inside her.
Now the sheer number of years
embraces her, she can barely remember
what remains on the other side of the window.
In her mind her husband's face billows.
The constant umbilical of cigarette smoke
fills her home, a smell
he will be able to follow back.
Her husband's name has become
and when she rolls it around her mouth
his body is solid yet light as a wing
under the white blanket on their bed.
in a blue sun dress
she stands next to him
at the end of a pier.
They listen to the dull bump of fishing boats
against the pilings,
see the bright spangle of mackerel scales
lining the bellies of the worn gray hulls.
In the sun a diamond ring
on her left hand shoots off sparks of fiery kisses.
She will spend her days dozing and waking
dreaming herself back to him.
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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