Introvert at heart. Lover of journaling, free-verse poetry, and poutine.
she saw what he was made of beyond flesh and bone — surface layers peeled back, raw when all he saw in a tainted reflection
By Skylar Whitney6 months ago in Poets
beauty is promised within each 24 hours of Earth’s planetary spin first, you awoke mourning doves sang if you’d decided, you could
I long to see you with sunflowers in your hands — fine arrangement; beautiful bouquet each, handpicked because, as you’d say,
I dreamt of you each night I thought about you each day I wrote about only you, when I had the words to say // meeting you was facing
you make it look easy and I'm jealous of the way your daily life since hasn't been flooded with constant reminders because it all transpired here ―
funny how a song I once belted from the top of my lungs - pure six-year-old child, who could have no proper comprehension of such a
took it out of it's place and gently into your palms wide open, the space in my chest missing a piece...yours to complete
on the days I try to forget, I’m always given reasons to remember — there’s no running from the signs // “look at the moon,” she said
there will never be another “goodnight” an evening’s end you’re at your place, I’m at mine // not another “good morning”
scientifically, I can't explain but I'm sure it's a simple answer and one you could easily retain but when pondering the question
it's a small town, I thought, and as such I'd have expected to have seen you around by now but you've disappeared and I
washing hands beneath a tap of drought no running water falls from this spout pleading for the least if only a drip