|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
18.It's exhilarating to love someone that your'e not supposed to; sneaking glances to make your heart race, trying to speak clearly through a lump in your throat, letting their radiant smile shine past the glint of the wedding ring. He supposes that's why he allowed himself to love her, as if he could get off on the thrill and would never have to even touch her. Her hair brushed against the back of his hand one afternoon, and he could see stars as she walked so gracefully away. He had never seen stars with any other girl, even when they pressed his hands against their cheeks, even when they let their hair dangle over his face like a curtain hiding a secret that everyone already knew. And so he spent the slowly disappearing days counting the times she could make his stomach twist and flutter.
After, he spent his nights awake trying to remember the way she sometimes lightly touched his shoulder. What they don't prepare you for is how hard it is to reason a broken heart over someone wh
17.I stand inside your skeletal remains, a different heart beats against its breastplate, a different set of organs is sheltered by the ribcage. You wouldn't recognize it anymore, but it still feels like home.
That's the beauty of being left behind, though they never mention it. I can watch it all be moulded and shaped again, death and rebirth and whatnot. It's almost disturbingly beautiful, as if I became your protege, left to maintain the body you left behind, to feed it, water it, and ultimately grow to love it.
I never expected to turn into you, but as I leave this body, my body, behind, planting seeds for someone else to water and grow, I realize that I have. And I realize that in loving it, I grew to love you, clinging forever, to these old bones.
16.The library was burning down, and there was nothing I could do about it. The yellowed pages of our favorite stories caught fire so easily and formed smoke monsters that got caught in the ceiling and disappeared into the flames that lapped against the ceiling. In my watering eyes, I could see your body forged from smoke and, darling, I knew that our story had gone up in flames.
14.She was supposed to be at her grandmother's house right now. Her mother had worried about putting her on the train alone, but her father insisted that she would be fine. He used to do it all the time as a kid, the conductors always make sure that the kids get off at the right stop and they usually give them candy. Her parents' flight left at six in the morning, and they dropped her off for the five o'clock train. They kissed her on the head and told her that everything would be alright.
It was early in the morning, in fact, she had never been up this early before. She tried her best to stay awake on the train, but by the third stop, she was asleep. When the train reached its final destination, the train conductor woke her to get off. He helped her get her luggage from the rack, and led her off the train to look for her grandmother.
Blinking the sleepiness from her eyes, she looked around the station, but the familiar face of her grandmother was nowhere to be seen. She walked over to th
13.People will throw away the strangest things. Just yesterday I found a pair of nearly new baby slippers, several books, and a box of pasta that had never been opened (don't they know that this stuff never goes bad?). Usually I just throw this all into the back of my truck, I can only keep the really impressive things, otherwise my house would end up looking like a smaller version of the dump.
The problem is, I can't stop taking the things she throws out. Yes, I have yet to see her face in person, but I know so much about her already. She can cook beautifully, I've seen her leftovers, and she has been to so many places. Just last week she threw out a bunch of old, blank postcards from Venice and Rome. I always put her garbage can back up on the curb once I finish with it, she has yet to say anything, but I'm sure that she appreciates the gesture. Maybe I'll see her next Friday on the route. I'll be sure to wear my nicest uniform.
hanaemi. | akaashi keiji
"Is it okay if I draw you?"
Akaashi blinks, stares, and says nothing. His dark charcoal eyes were fixated on you as you look back at him with an innocent smile, and he starts wondering why you wanted to draw him. It wasn't everyday that a person comes to him and asks if they could draw him. No, this was actually the first time this happened, and he isn't really sure how to respond. But as he continues to look at that small, cute, and innocent smile of yours, he couldn't bring himself to say no. And so, he nods his head.
The smile still embed on your face, you sit him down on a stool and you quickly grab for your sketchbook and a pencil from your bag, and you observe his face for a moment. You then start drawing, and all Akaashi could hear was the sound of your pencil moving across from your thick sketchbook paper. He stays like this until he starts noticing that his body was going stiff - his neck, his back, but he didn't want to distract you from drawing. Carefully, he looks aw
your smile used to be bright. | kaneki ken
Why̴ ͢įs ̡t͠h̵e ͠wo̴r͘ld͡ ̨so̢ ̨c͞r͞uel?
"Are you worried about him?" He — Banjou, if you remember his name correctly — asks as he rests a hand on your right shoulder. You decide not to respond to him and continued to stay silent. Of course, you were worried about him. You were just about worried as everyone here in the cafe. "There's no need to be worried, though. Kaneki is a strong guy. I'm sure he'll make it. We'll save him, too. I promise." He says, trying his best to reassure you with a smile.
"Is it a promise you can keep?" You questioned, your voice mellow. "Promises are meant to be broken, you know."
"I don't break my promises." He says.
"Okay." You're not sure if you trusted him or not — because once you give someone your utmost trust, they'll betray you and throw you away. You'll be forgotten, and you'll be all alone again. Giving your trust to someone else is difficult and pa
You didn't even perform an autopsyYou placed me in the bed of a sarcophagus.
I asked, "Isn't this where you put dead people?"
"Then why am I here?"
"You're dead, of course."
ExpressionShe made a face, which she turned and showed to him. "Hey, what do you think?"
He looked at it. "That's great! I've only got a few mouths. Here," he said, and gave her a smile.
She examined it closely. "It's much better than mine," she said, her voice barely audible. Her own smile was a weak, tremulous thing, as fragile as a dream upon waking and as brittle as a partially healed heart.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "We're working on that, love. These things take time."
"I know," she said in a voice as soft as falling snow. She stood there staring at the figure they had made, and thought of things long since lost, and how she wished she could take comfort from the strength of his arms.
amorei picked my heart up off the floor
times before giving in to shattered-glass arteries and a fragile state of mind.
nothing went right
until constellations rained from heavens and made angels with their teeth. their goddess stepped forward until i could taste her on my tongue. she leaned into me and whispered
"you are loved"
then fell into my mouth like raindrops off of leaves and melted into me.
heart in hands,
i cradle myself for the eighth time...
through kaleidoscope eyes,
i can tell that she will be my last.
Plead"You are not the man you seem to be."
The quiver of a voice. His words are ghosts in a frozen prison.
"You are not the man you seem to be, and you make the angels weep."
His palms reaching toward the ceiling, down on his knees, he implores a Lord he's never seen.
"You make your son and his mother cry."
The ice in his blue eyes is trying not to melt. A neon is sizzling. It never worked.
"You are not even the man I've cursed."
He is trembling, his heart forever stuck in ice.
"You don't have to forgive me... no, you don't even have to forgive."
He puts his hands on the floor. The flaps of his coat are tattered wings.
"I'm not asking you to give her back to me..."
Tears start to fall, soft noises of rain on immaculate ground.
"I'm not asking you to save me..."
His thin and delicate fingers are claws, metamorphosis of the innocent destroyer.
"I'm not even asking you to love me."
From his jaws, pours a venom black from all the culpability.
"I'm only asking you to..."
Fangs keep the eu
Keep in Touch!
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