pretty skies forever

i wish to be loved the same way i love the moon, the stars and the clouds.

[prettylittleskyars]

Too Late

You know what's strange?

I've never been someone’s first choice.

Never the one they opened the door for.

I was always just outside—so close I could hear the laughter,

feel the warmth through the cracks.

But not close enough to be let in.

I always arrive late.

Too late for love.

Too late for space in their heart.

By the time I get there,

someone else has already unpacked their memories,

left their scent in the sheets,

written their name on the walls.

And me?

I just stand there,

holding all this love

with nowhere to put it.

Maybe if I looked like her.

Smiled like her.

Maybe if I reminded them of something familiar,

something already loved—

they would have made space for me.

But I’m not her.

And because of that,

no matter how softly I knock,

the door stays shut.

Every time,

I get to their heart

just a little too late.

And they never wait for me.

Vishakha Kallani

[prettylittleskyars]

Hold Hands

I only ever wanted to hold his hand.

Not to claim him, not to keep him—

just to be beside him,

quiet and steady,

like a shadow that doesn’t leave

when the sun sets.

Not a lover,

but a partner.

A teammate in the trenches,

someone who stands there

even when he says he doesn’t need anyone.

He burned me every time I touched him—

but I stayed.

Because my burns

were nothing

compared to the scars he carried.

And if I could’ve taken them from him,

I would have,

barehanded.

I still want to hold his hand.

That’s all.

No rescue, no promises.

Just fingers interlaced in silence—

a quiet vow

that I’ll be here,

even when he forgets how to reach back.

Vishakha Kallani

[prettylittleskyars]

Your birthday is still the password to my phone.

Your photos are still tucked away in hidden albums I can't bring myself to delete.

Our old conversations? Still there—every word, every laugh, every late-night confession.

I still have that bucket list we made together…

All the things I dreamed of doing with you.

Now, they’re just scribbles on paper.

Reminders of a future that never happened.

Memories of someone I used to know.

Someone I used to love.

Someone who used to be everything.

Someone who…

was you.

Vishakha Kallani

[prophetic-writer]

“What if I write it and it’s bad-”

WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS GOOD? WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED? WHAT THEN????

[prettylittleskyars]

@writertobesworld ????? it does make sense

[shisasan]

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟹, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[ID: May 3. The terrible uncertainty of my inner existence. END ID]

[prettylittleskyars]

When shadows fall, and silence claims your mind,

When storms within make every breath a fight,

I hope you know that peace is yours to find,

And I’ll be here, a quiet, steady light.

Your soul, a universe of depth and grace,

Carries the weight of wounds you never show.

But even when you drift to find your space,

I stand afar, still cheering as you grow.

You lift me up with words you cannot say,

A guardian through my uncertain skies.

Yet when you break, and push the world away,

I’ll linger, strong, a hand you can’t disguise.

For friendship blooms where love and patience meet,

And I’ll be here, unmoved, when you retreat.

- Vishakha Kallani

[prettylittleskyars]

but you know what? i have never resided in someone's heart. i was always there, near by, just outside the premises but never allowed in. i have always arrived late in their heart. I never seem to reach on time, early infact.

The traces of their former tenants are still visible. I might have still managed to enter if I looked like her, smiled like her or my eyes crinkled when i laughed like her. But I am not her. Thus the access will be denied to me forever.

I always get late in reaching someone's heart earlier.

[prettylittleskyars]

those who had a happy childhood, live their entire lives living off those memories. those who had a sad childhood, live their entire lives healing those wounds.

[shisasan]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟷𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: August 12. Didn’t sleep at all. Lay three hours in the afternoon on the sofa, sleepless and apathetic; the same at night. But it mustn’t thwart me. END ID]

[prettylittleskyars]

I keep on wondering

how sad do I have to be

for someone to stop insisting

everything is going to be fine?

- Courtney Peppernell, Pillow Thoughts (Pillow Thoughts, #1)

[prettylittleskyars]

for a moment i knew cosmic love

for a moment there was us

for a moment i looked into your eyes

from that moment i was telling myself lies

weaving webs of forever

weaving threads that would waver

and now i am here trying to be your friend

when all i wanted was us till the end.

Vishakha Kallani

[prettylittleskyars]

he fit so perfectly into the love story i imagined for myself that i mistook him for the love of my life.

[mournfulroses]

Julia de Burgos, from Song of the Simple Truth: Poems; "That You Love Me In Green,"

[prettylittleskyars]

that's all i asked. but you? you left me in the middle of a hurricane all alone. begging you to take my hand but you were tired of trying to save me. so you saved yourself instead.

[prettylittleskyars]

You’re not in love with me, not really, you just love the way I always made you feel. Like you were the centre of my world. Because you were. I would have done anything for you.

Abby Mcdonald, Getting Over Garrett Delaney

picture source: pinterest

[prettylittleskyars]

“I’m learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me.”

[prettylittleskyars]

i heard someone say, "when you're starving even the leftovers look appealing".

this isn't about food.

[earththings]