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Her PerfumeShe bites my lip, bites her own
and there's something glorious about her
and the careless, controlled caress of her palms
I kiss the freckles, paled by maturity
beneath her autumn-eyes
and she smiles, oh God, she smiles.
I inhale the heady scent of her throat,
cigarettes and spice and that perfumed mist
she keeps in a vial of absynthe-green
beside the bed.
I wish my skin would melt
so that I could crawl into hers
and feel her pulse more clearly against my soul
I wonder how to explain this to her,
this dark-bright drowning in flames
like rough velvet
but I've lost my reason long ago
Instead, I stutter an incoherancy and she
she smiles, oh God, she smiles.
I knew she'd understand.
Feminism: Myths of Man HateMaybe this doesn't exactly fit under the 'submit art' section on deviantart, but I tend to use da as a personal thing. On here, I post drawings and poetry, fiction and photographs so I figured, hey, what not just throw this in as well?
As a feminist myself, it's obvious that many, many people have some pretty major misconceptions about feminism. You just have to google the word 'feminism' and about a million pages come up, leading to why feminism is pointless, why all feminists are man hating lesbians etc etc.
I'd just like to take five minutes of anyones time to correct some of these negative views, if that's alright with you
Misconception no. 1
All feminists hate men:
Nope. I myself, quite like men. Some of my best friends are men. Hell, even my own father is a man!
What is a problem for feminists however, is patriarchy.
Patriarchy, in blunt terms, is a system of discrimination by men against women. This doesn't mean men are evil, or even concious of it ('though a l
One day, I will be oldOne day, I will be old
My skin will wilt like winter leaves
and my shrinking spine will curve
under the weight of a hundred years.
My eyes will become milky with cateracts
and one by one, my teeth will loosen
under the strain of a thousand words
My hair will become like cobwebs
and my artist's hands will seize
to brittle claws, unable to escape artiritis' grip.
All of my body will recoil
like a closing bud, like glass crumbling.
Perhaps I shall become like a fossil
and in years to come I may be stood in a museum
in a shiny, air tight case.
White lights will illuminate my skull
and each rib and rise and hollow of my frame.
There will probably be a plaque, stating my name,
the age of my remains, where the found me.
Children will lean in to get a closer view
with eyes like awed suns
and they'll call across the room "Come look at this!
I think she died smiling!"
and the adults too will wonder how,
even after a million years,
I still have the lines of a billion smiles,
a trillion happy memo
Asking PermissionFire is a strange thing.
I felt it twist inside of me
and pull the strings of a
I never thought I would end
up starving once more. Perhaps
it's a strange pyromania, the air
that composes my soul makes
your fire spring to life.
I am on the concrete
Another chance at London rain.
A chance at the fire I once thought
just for a momentShe gazes across the room
Up and down
With bedroom eyes
All over her face
She swooned her easily
Took her by the hand
And lead her back
Into her room
She laid her down
Oh so gently on her bed
Made her dance
Made her swim
Made her feel
Like no man could
Sent her on highest highs
Yelling in ecstasy
All music to her ears
As she clung to her tight
Whispers of love
And a never-ending night
But she had to release her
She had no choice
For the little one had to return
To the arms of her man
She knew from the start
it was a one night stand
Nothing less nothing more
She had set her hopes too high
None-the-less she was happy
She got what she had wanted
The girl she loved so was hers
Even for just a moment
So she fell asleep fulfilled
Clutching her pillow
And pretending once more
Just for a moment
.i want us to have a summer romance
just like we're fifteen
and not giving a damn
about the rest of the world
sneaking out, staying up late
making out, making love
counting stars, counting your freckles
sleeping in your bed, waking up to your smile
i find this place in my dreams
i just want it to be reality
but that's near impossible
when you're so far away
Oranges and Black CoffeeYour voice is sharp,
it always is.
Sharp and sweet like honeyed, but bitter tea.
Your grasp is sharp as well,
your approach rarely expected,
your reach sudden,
but your embrace a sinking softness.
I do sink,
letting your body weld to mine,
the scent of black coffee and the orange peels you keep in your pockets until they're dried,
it coats my flesh.
You laugh shrill and full,
the laugh filling and rumbling in your chest,
swelling against me.
And I smile,
face pressed into your neck,
imagining how the light glints off your eyes,
how the corners of your mouth turn down slightly when you smile,
and I smile a little bigger because you're smiling because of me.
So I inhale the scent of black coffee and oranges,
and hold your waist a little tighter,
because I love you,
and just loving you is enough to keep me happy for a very long time.
It's the heart...It's the heart that beats next to mine,
It's the heart that beats out of time,
It's the heart that races,
When mine only paces,
It's the heart that never slows.
Let Love Linger ForeverAs the rain is dripping
Tinkering down on the pavement
Now that old love song plays on the radio
I must release my true feelings
I see you standing there
Happy and content
I just want to walk over
and kiss your lips
And feel your touch
Softly against my face
And let the taste of our love
I have dreamt of us
none of it comes true
No one knows this
feeling inside me
As reality fades in
and dreams fade away
Alone and away from you.
FagFag. Queer. Sissy. Gayboy. Princess.
Every day I'd get up and go to school.
Every day they would be waiting for me.
From the time I walked in till the time I walked out, and even after that online and on the phone; I couldn't escape the names. I couldn't escape the disgust.
I came out as gay in the eighth grade, and it wasn't that big of a deal. Nobody in my family minded and most were actually very supportive. Even the kids at school didn't seem to care that much. It wasn't until another boy came out as gay, Eric Dewitt. I had always had a bit of a crush on him and it wasn't long before me and him became a couple.
I guess that's what it took to make it real for all my classmates, because after that it was hell.
At first I would get beat up, but Eric and the school administration put a stop to that. After that came the names and the looks.
The names were bad, the looks were the worst.
When somebody looks at you as if you were less than nothing, as if you were the filthiest scum on the
MonsterI once knew this girl.
Such a beautiful girl.
Once so happy and high on life.
Nothing would stand in her way.
This girl was full of care.
Always wanted people to be happy with her.
Tried not to be so mean.
Trying to be so very nice and maybe create a laugh.
But what has happened to this girl?
Well she has faded with the black from the abyss she has fallen in.
Nothing to get out,
This beautiful girl who never felt the pain,
Her soul eaten by the monster, Love.
She was never to be heard of again.
So who was this girl?
And what made her fall?
This girl was me.
And the push was from the woman she loved.
One YearThat name
Lingers at the back of my mind
A year has passed
Ever so fast
Yet i'm still sad
I feel too bad
I need to stop
And move on
So why cant i?
First Girl too
I'm so confused
Am i this am i that
I've told people now
I cant go back
I'm hoping that special person
Will walk into my life
And stay this time
Because i want someone to hold me into the night..
To Have and To HoldI know her.
I know how confetti-light caresses
make her weak at the knee
and how she always tastes of champagne.
So I kiss her where she is white as lace
and rouged as the rose petals she scattered on the bed
that first time.
Vows, low as the sun, stutter from her throat
and I know she will keep them
as I take her ring finger into my mouth
and bite where her band will lie.
I know her.
I will know her, for the rest of my life.
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