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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.
BreathlessIt could be years away
or maybe a week or a day
but not a minute goes by
that I don't think of how I'll die
And in every thought
is the idea that you brought
that there should be someone
who's by my side until it's done
My greatest fear
draws ever nearer
that I won't find the one
who'll waste days with me, out under a golden sun
All I wish for
is you at my door
saying you'll never leave
even after I can no longer breathe
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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