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I Don't Hate youdo i hate you?
no, i hate what you did to me
i'm not fond of liars
i can't say i'm not one
but i don't lie to the ones i love
maybe a white lie or two
when i said i loved your hair curly, i meant that
when i said you looked beautiful, that came from my heart
a white lie is something people say when they don't want to hurt the person
i never wanted to hurt you
you sure fucking hurt me
i'm just trying to feel whole again
i lied when i said i don't hate you
i love you
Where Are Youhi
you were sitting there, lovely as can be
you said you did something
i smiled, only imagining the joke you were about to tell
i look down, my smile slowly turned into a gasp
i see the blood pour out onto the sheets
i am speechless
you say your going to be right back
i follow you upstairs
it's dark outside
remember when i took the knife out of hands?
and said you're better than this
no just one more and we can have some fun
no i can't let you do this
did it hurt when you punched my fridge?
i bet it hurt less without the knife in your hand
we went downstairs and you were crying
i ask you what happened
you said you had been raped
i hold you and promise to never left go
you fall asleep on my lap
i'm sitting in my shower
we haven't spoken in ages
i'm thinking about all those times we had
laying in the park
watching silly movies
why did you leave me
i promised id never leave you
i should have just assumed you were going to leave
eventually everyone does
now the knife is in my hands
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
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.
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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