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Tall, Dark and Scary (Chapter 1)As I lay in bed, I touched my lips. They tingled slightly to the touch but the initial pain, I once felt, was gone. Why did I have to read that note? Why did I have to show up at the greenhouse? It was like I was begging to have a run in with evil. I mean honestly though, I never expected the sender to be him. The note was just there early this morning. It didn't have anything other than my name and it was folded into a nice, neat square. I knew it couldn't have been a mistake because I am the only Arabelle in my school.
I touched my lips again, gently caressing my bottom lip. My mind seems to keep wondering to that moment. I mean, what could have made him decide that earlier was as good a time as any to confess to me and why me? I’m not your type A beauty queen and I’m definitely not the girl who stands out in the crowd. I’m pretty average in the looks department apart from my smile, which I've been told could light up a room. I don’t believe that since I stopp
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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