Hey hi there!

i’m skye and also a writer? poet? reader? these are just jots of thoughts! let me know if you find a finished piece :) she/her, 17

[skyesink]

1-7-21

this fuck you doesn’t pack a punch

this fuck you was aimed at both of us

at me because i come to your beck and call, the smallest bit of attention

at you because you keep on leaving me hanging

this fuck you doesn’t mean anything i swear i just want to talk

but our whateverthisis makes me unsure of what to say

i don’t want to mess up

and you’re making me feel like i already have

but oh well because i’m still gonna say

“goodnight i hope you sleep well i can’t wait to talk to you tomorrow”

please tell me you’ll talk to me tomorrow.

[skyesink]

yes! please keep the trauma coming! that’s exactly what i needed today :)

[little-miss-tragedy]

I still think about you; your name floats through my mind like a ship lost at sea, no destination in sight. I feel a familiar ache in my chest, a quiet yearning, to tell you everything that you have missed. I realize, though, that I do not miss you. I miss an old version of you; I miss the you who spoke of our future, who molded plans around the taste of forever. I want to talk to the version of you that is frozen in time, untouched by a future that doesn’t include me—that doesn’t include us. So here I am, writing letters to the past, speaking to someone who doesn’t know me in this lifetime, but who wanted to. I know he wanted to be here, and would have given anything to see this though. He was like that; he never gave up on anything that he wanted. But he’s not here anymore—you are. You have his face, and his eyes, and his laugh, but you don’t have his love for me. You left that behind. Quietly folded it up, a sweater that you grew out of years ago, and put it away in a chest that is nestled somewhere between your ribs. Untouched. Right where it belongs.  

unsent message (9/?) by (DS)

[skyesink]

10-11-20

this is a poem for my first love

for the love i hold my own hand now

so i don’t have to grasp her absence.

for the love i thought would last so long we

would still fall asleep i each other’s arms at

90.

for a love so new that lasted so long.

every date the first one.

butterflies fluttering each time i stepped up to

her door

for a love i now avoid.

if i were to see her on the road i think i would crash.

our eyes meet and suddenly my heart has whiplash.

catapulting between heart full/heart broken in a second.

for my first love i learned how to drive one handed.

just in case she wanted to hold my hand.

[skyesink]

today was tiger rising

today was elephant sands.

waves crashing up through my chest

choking up

they splash out through my eyes

again and again

is the storm over?

what does the future look like?

[skyesink]

10-18-20

you know what sucks. hearing that you have the thing i want most right now. someone to love. and yes i know this is another letter because 2 yard and four days after our anniversary and 9 months after our breakup i’m still writing to you. but that’s just because there’s still feelings. and it might not be love. and it might not be rage but it is sadness and frustration and me bottling everything up as always. there will probably always still be feelings. right now in particular it is jealousy. i want what you have. someone to talk to. someone to kiss. someone who will squeeze me around the waist like you did. but here i am lonely. i don’t want your pity. or your friendship. i can’t handle any of that right now. i just don’t want to see you at a party. see you drunk off your ass and for me to be the bad guy. don’t want to mess up again. Fuck Charlotte being 18. let me ignore this some more.

[skyesink]

i want a small romance. something intimate in the little things. i want my eyelash wishes blown from the tips of your fingers. want casual conversation over baby tomatoes. backhugs and neck kisses while i wash the dishes. you popping cutie slices into both of our mouths. sitting a hammock full of blankets while we watch the lightening. give me good coffee and gentle kisses at sunrise. rainy day puzzles. car windows down and music loud and careless. let me live in the little moments

[skyesink]

3-8-2020

i wish i could write the poem written in the curve of your neck

i want to hear the explanation for its perfection

the porcelain skin

that jawline

but the words are too out of reach for my pencil to catch

too illusive to be written down. so that only my eyes can can read the invisible

perfection

that i see every time you tilt your head just so

i want to listen to the song your eyes sing

the hymn of deep greens and golden browns

the melody of warmth and comfort and mystery

i want to look into your eyes and see the

evergreen pines and grassy trails of your summer stories

i want to look into your eyes and be wrapped up in that sweater you wear so well

i want to know the story of your lips and how your smile was born

the reasons why it always lifts up at the corner

a facade of happiness

you are the opposite of resting bitch face

an energetic wholesome being projected through your smile

i cant wait to have the knowledge of your perfection entangled in my memories

[asking-jude]

“Dear outsiders, even the most beautiful of wildflowers are considered weeds in the wrong gardens—what another thinks of you does not dictate your value.”

— Beau Taplin, “Wildflowers” 

[thriftdyke]

[skyesink]

from head to toe she is

dirty blonde hair, shorter every season

she is hazel eyes that glow gold only sometimes

but she sees the gold in everyone

she is a crooked smile that comes with a crooked sense of humor

and a laugh that could never be stifled 

she is freckles on her cheeks and shoulders,

sun kisses that turn into inverse constellations on her skin

she is dry hands and sweaty palms and almost no fingernails to speak of

but hose hands would hold the world for you 

and you don’t even have to ask

she is long legs and knobby knees and callused feet

not exactly built for running 

but they are worn for they have carried her everywhere she’s been

they brought her to you.

From head to toe she is 

loved.

by herself

and now by you.