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'Call Me Maybe' RewriteI wasn't looking for love
Searching for signs from above
I didn't fall I was shoved
I know it sounds clique
But when I look in your eyes
There's feelings I can't deny
Something I can't sumarise
You take my breath away
Your stare was holding
My hopes they were growing
Can't help but feel I'm showing
How much you mean to me baby
I know that we're young and this sounds crazy
But you've got my number, so call me maybe
It's hard to look right, at you baby
But there's noone like you, so call me maybe
I know that we're young and this sounds crazy
But you've got my number, so call me maybe
And all the other boys, they tried to change me
But you're not like that, so call me maybe
Don't take your time with the call
I won't play no games at all
Cos if we're meant to we'll fall
And that'll make my day
Just share some laughter with me,
And make some good memories
Just be all you can be
And I'll meet you half way
Your stare was holding
My hopes they were growing
Can't help but feel I'm showing
Words Are All We HaveTime has left me unsure.
I don't know anything anymore.
How to act, how to think.
How to choose the right words so that you'll know exactly what I mean.
I once heard
'We can only communicate with words,
And words often fail to communicate.'
And if this is true,
Which I know it is,
How do I even stand a chance at getting you to understand me?
Everything about me that you don't know has made me what I am.
Because you see this isn't new for me,
I know how this ends,
I know how this will make me feel,
Good and bad.
But I'm scared,
All the boys who threw me to the ground with their words,
Those boys, so clearly communicating that I was not worth loving,
And when their words failed to communicate,
They weren't afraid to use their fists.
I am fully aware of the fact that I am damaged goods.
But how can I explain that to you?
How can I explain how fragile I am without sounding like I'm wrong.
I know my flaws
I know what I'm like when I'm locked alone in my room.
But don't misunderstand m
Silence is the Worst Possible EndingI hate that you turned out to be just like the rest of them,
I mean, I know we never would have worked.
I know that.
That's what I have to keep telling myself anyway.
What I think I wanted you to say was I don't care.
I don't care how far away you are,
I don't care how unlikely this is to work,
I just don't care.
I wanted you to say you wanted to be with me.
I didn't want you to be just like the rest of them.
Leaving me hanging on empty air,
And it hurts so much more because I thought you were different.
And I try not to let our last words,
Or should I say my last words, and that blank space,
Taint those two perfect days we had together.
I want to keep those few moments,
Stupid, stupid moments,
Like when you hugged a cereal box for about 10 minutes,
And when we walked together on the beach,
And when you said you liked me best in the mornings,
When I had bed head and smudged makeup and my arms wrapped around you.
And I really didn't want to let you go.
In those moments when
When You Move I Move With YouI know it's a lie, I want it to be true.
Wishing you could keep me closer
I'm a lazy dancer, when you move,
I move with you.
The shudder of a memory, a dream.
The fires out,
My bed's gone cold.
I remember that one night you slept beside me here.
Our sides touching in my double bed,
We talked for what seemed like hours when we were awake,
And I remember thinking how different you looked when you slept.
I'm trying too hard, I know that,
And I keep forgetting myself,
Making comments when I tell myself not to,
But I always try to turn away if I catch you looking at me.
I remember one time I slept in your bed,
Cramped in your single I was too aware of myself,
The alcohol had worn off and I could feel only too clearly where we touched,
My blood beating through my veins, I closed my eyes.
Sometimes I find myself reaching out for something at night,
Confused at being on the wrong side of the bed when I wake,
And hitting out at the wall with clumsy arms,
Woken from some dre
Forgetting HimAll of it is just becoming a distant memory now,
Those feelings, I'm managing to push them down.
Just so long as I don't look him in the eye.
Then I can manage it.
I'd rather that, I think,
Small aches, sometimes,
Realising something else that you can't let happen again.
Some are more obvious,
Like how he always held my hand as we pushed our way through the crowds,
And drinking with him,
And chatting to him over food.
Some are less so,
Like no more pictures,
And no sitting on his bed,
And I'm sure I'll think of something else tomorrow.
Hopefully soon I'll be able to forget completely.
Most of those moments are even more blurry now,
So that's a good sign.
Even so, after all this I don't regret a thing.
I know he does.
But never mind,
He's not the first to see me as nothing more than a mistake,
Or a drunken blunder you hope you don't remember the next morning,
And I'm sure he won't be the last.
And I'm sure there's a part of me that wishes it had gone differently.
(Okay, maybe I k
The Music of MelancholyIf the night is long, you can spent minutes, hours, reflecting,
Gazing on the light of the moon.
The music of melancholy drifting through the air.
In the sighs of regrets and wishes,
Lie the most deepest and darkest of secrets that we all hold so dear to our hearts.
Breath frosts over the windows, watching the mist spread and retract,
Like the waves of the ocean,
Lost in darkness and wondering,
We all wander on a lonely path, soldiering on through the night,
Lit by stars and orange streetlights,
With the air biting at our necks and faces.
Time to time this feeling, this passive mood passes over all of us,
And we close our eyes and see our dreams flicker past like an old movie,
Moving too quickly for us to take it in, skipping scenes and breaking into static.
We close our eyes and see stars burst and spark into nothingness,
And we hear the strum of a guitar translating our thoughts into music,
A deep bass line to convey our emotions,
The dull heaviness of our minds moving in constant mo
Half-LightIt's in moment like these,
These dull, flickering moments when time seems to run dry,
And all I can think of is the light that once shone on your face,
Flashes of my camera and how you smiled at me.
These dull, flickering moments when my memories warp,
And I picture me and him walking home, drunk, our hands clasped
And his skin under my hands as we kissed in the kitchen.
When my words seem so insignificant,
And I don't even want to express how I feel right now,
This sense of being lost, that so many things are slipping away from me,
All at once.
When I sit here in my room, and I know you're in yours,
Worlds apart perhaps, or at least it feels that way, sometimes.
I take a breath and I think about how maybe that will be the only time you'll hold me.
And I force some battered film to play in my mind,
Some edited, blurring motion picture that jumps from shots,
To dancing so close it feels like there's not a part of us not touching,
Then your mouth on mine, your hands on my waist.
Thank You Lord for Loving MeHow many times will it take for me to never forget,
In those moments when Your love overwhelms me,
And I can't help but cry because I know that You love me so much.
I'm chosen to live for You, and follow You,
And time after time I fail You,
But every single time You welcome be back,
Thank you Lord for loving me.
Every time I promise, never again,
But I know I'm going to fail, forget, be overwhelmed all over again.
But I know You'll forgive me, love me,
And fill me with such happiness that can compare to nothing else on earth.
If I were to search the whole world nothing would compare to You.
When I was in darkness, just a void of nothingness,
It was You who saved me, who filled the hole inside my heart with love.
It was You who fixed me when nothing else can,
Even though I remain a broken, sorry excuse for a person,
You make me better, You make me worth so much,
When no one else is there I know that You are and You always will be,
You will always see me as perfect because
HomeThe light in the corridor goes out.
The end of a term, the end of the first bit of the beginning.
The door across the hall is shut, those two left today.
One of us left a week ago. That was weird at first,
But now three have gone it seems oddly quiet.
I know by next week there will only be four of us,
And half the campus will have gone home for Christmas.
Our little flat will go our separate ways for a couple of weeks,
And be back together in the New Year.
It's weird that I'm going home,
Not living with students who I only met through administrative coincidence,
I've only known them for 10 weeks.
But they are what make this little hall of rooms, home.
Complaining about the washing up not being done,
Chatting over dinner,
Baking, drinking, partying, cleaning, watching films.
Everything that goes on inside this little flat,
And the people in it,
Create a new little world within my new life.
And at the end of the day coming home,
Up all those bloody stairs,
To flat G7,
Makes it all worth
The woman from ParisI took much pleasure in losing my way in Paris' morbid and dangerous streets,
Where sole the high arrogant walls whispered me words I was able to understand,
These stretches of granite trapped me like the grave I've always dreamt of.
The Ladies' ice-cold and distant beauty inebriated me with all the bitterness of temptation;
Under a dirty, driving rain, I gazed at them and suffered
While the parisian mist permeated on my heart its burning frostbites,
And hearses of madness couldn't stop from parading through my mind.
"Veux-tu voir la face cachée de Paris ?" - A slender voice dragged me out of darkness
The Seine flowed, flowed, flowed...And stopped.
Her voice, like a carillon, announced Summer's return,
The breeze blew the rain, the sun revived these leaves dead for centuries,
As if she saved me from a waking nightmare.
"Je t'en prie, ne me regarde pas comme ça..." - An embarrassed smiled was being painted on her magenta cheeks
That was her, th
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
Parchment ThinYou left pencil lead bruises
smudged on my thin ivory skin,
your harsh fingers tracing the lace
of the baby doll lingerie
you pasted to my curves.
The angel wings
tied with tape around my shoulders
(the missing piece of innocence
you thought you could borrow)
weighed me down;
with flat eyes
and marker-blotted lips,
I watched you admire your handiwork.
A nimble flourish of knuckles later,
you slipped me between the plastic
of your photo album
and left my name dripping ink
in the corner--
just another parchment doll
too fragile for holding.
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
Goldfish OriginsGoldfish Origins
little feet patter against hardwood,
windows painted by jet clouds
adorned with light studs like earrings
as the children squeal and run,
swimming in and out every room
like a school of fish.
their arms play fins
and their lungs play gills
as time is laid to rest
with each step.
but as some younglings glide
in the waters of childish antics,
there is one that has strayed from class;
nearby, a teacher frantically
looks for the little girl lost at sea.
a field trip to an invisible building
now an adventure
to prevent a disappearing act,
waves of emotion spike
as the woman searches every corner
for some semblance of the mini hellion.
“Amber! Amber! Please say something, honey!”
Mrs. Johnson searches high and low,
from the closet to the dust-hugged kitchen;
the child is nowhere to be found,
and there is only place left to trawl.
the panicked teacher
throws the bathroom door open
in hopes of finally catching her student,
only to discover a lonely fa
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
The Story Of The Night
When dusk goes and gives its place to darkness
Comes to life the One they think is Soulless
No matter how much the passion it’s useless
Forgotten, tossed and hopeless
Whose caress Brings to life the dark creatures of the forest
longs for the embrace of the day, within his heart a thousand dark roses
A thousand punctures in his heart are what you call stars
the remains of his long sustained scars
Sometimes his pain lies heavy on the clouds eyes
And the water of sorrow falls from the skies
Yes,It’s what you call a Nightly Rain
But in fact it’s tears of Night going Insane
The day that light was going to be given to day or night
Night gave all his shine to day so she would be even more beautiful at everyone's sight
but it became his curse and was departed because of his lack of light
Always reaching for the hand of the day in reality and in his mind
Always having this question deep inside
Will he be able to turn the destiny's tide?
Everything Was in the TouchEverything was in the touch.
That's what made it right.
The way his fingers seemed to know exactly how to travel on my skin.
How he found all the places that made me shiver,
With such expert hands.
I didn't even have to say, he just found it.
Everything was in the touch.
The way that under sheets,
In a room full of drunk and loud teenagers,
Celebrating the New Year in their Christmas break before returning to uni,
While someone had passed out on the floor,
So much commotion.
Lying down with his arm around me he took my hand.
In an offhand way that spoke volumes.
In a way that made it feel right,
Or at least it made it not wrong.
Not like the others,
Where there was always some thought at the back of your head,
Some awkwardness, something that made you uncomfortable.
In those moments I forgot I'd only met him that night.
It felt like I'd known his touch forever.
In those bittersweet moment that never lasted,
Those urgent moments with his mouth on mine,
My hands in his hair, him p
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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