StarInYourSkye

Always Wishing

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tremors by bailey--elizabeth, literature

Literature

tremors

curled over a porcelain mouth, i let my dinner fall out. it's 9:33 p.m. and i think about saturday, when rain hit the pavement like firecrackers, the sky darker than the shadows behind the shower curtain. i know there's a spider burrowed between those plastic folds. funny thing about deep spaces; they feel better when they're stuffed full. i think about how your fingertips made my skin feel soft and breakable, how your tongue was warm, about how my legs wouldn't stop shaking and you laughed, whispering, "you okay?" well, there's this experience known as an aftershock. hands clutching cold tile,

epitaph erased by bailey--elizabeth, literature

Literature

epitaph erased

here lie the deep-seated sins of the hollow-hearted youth, of the kids who lie alone with clammy hands and half-mast eyes gripped by late night desires and words carved into tabletops, words telling of wet cold sheets and wet hot limbs: here lie the unspoken truths of the insignificants, of the ones who sit lonely on mattress edges and hard floors while their mouths hang open and their tongues dry out.

breathing is secondary by bailey--elizabeth, literature

shuteye by bailey--elizabeth, literature

tigers in cages by bailey--elizabeth, literature

Literature

tigers in cages

there's a leopard under my stomach and a boy above my back, feral creatures marking my peripheries. everything is made of hands slipping, curling, gripping my thighs, of cold glass on my forehead, of two sets of bent knees and too much confined heat and... there's a blue gleam from the front seat that reveals sweat on my spine and dark curls sticking to my shoulders. the moon comes and this space is crowded, secret, shrouded by not-quite-midnight, by four locked

absences by bailey--elizabeth, literature

Literature

absences

but this isn't just distance as in space, not just distance as in whispers of, "i can't believe how far you are from me, i miss you" - this isn't just distance in the way that roads seem to spill over hilltops for years, stretching like skin across knuckles but never ending, no. this is the kind of distance that isn't seen but instead felt, that isn't marked by miles or gas money and can't be pinned in two spots on a map with red thumbtacks: this is not hearing from you for days and knowing you haven't noticed. this is wanting to have you beside me and knowing you're just fine alone. this is the kind of dist

9.7 by bailey--elizabeth, literature

so kill me, mockingbird by bailey--elizabeth, literature

Literature

so kill me, mockingbird

i once said, listen up, because here's the way it's going to work: there will be milky ways and mountains and clouds dancing with rain, the sun won't quite look the same, and the moon won't seem so dull. i once said, come closer, because there's something that you need to know: at night we'll breathe against each other, move with each other, and our delirious melodies will wake the waves and shake the stars. i once said, stay here, don't go, never ever leave me: but here i am now, eating my words from a silver platter.

fairytales and regurgitation by capricordestin, literature

Literature

fairytales and regurgitation

your pacifistic smile makes my outside-me curl into a similar shape, cynically [morning moods] "anything is possible," you whisper, "chickens can fly, trees will outlive you and bananas do not grow towards the light-" you stole the words i used to lisp when you were hopelessly into painting realistic portraits and you [such a tragedy] only spoke to me in dead languages well, my brain refuses to reply, twisting like tentacles of a baby-sized octopus craving for food so we'll fill ourselves with literature, eat and eat the crumbly yellow-ish pages of knowledge, stained with coffee regurgitation and again it is noon a

Autumn Myths by a-secret-key, literature

Literature

Autumn Myths

The seasons form a marriage of opposites. Two exalted lights meet, both searching a sky devoid of allegiance. It reads like a prelude to creation. - Not cumulus, not stratus or cirrus: instead the mists lie on gravel-throated greens, entirely indistinct. We pass with caution through divine riot, knowing very little except of the carrion: the treetops who snatch celestial glory, gilt earth with futile pride. They hope for a metamorphisis of old habits but instead find fortunes are fleeting- goblin gold, lifting with the skies as they fill with hoarse gloom. We gathered some, plucked them from the air for souveniers. Counted

About StarInYourSkye

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Artist

Feb 7
United States
Deviant for 14 years
She / Her

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My Bio

I'm StarInYourSkye. You can just call me Star or Skye for short. or whatever you wish. ;P

I like writing poems, even though I'm not that great with words, eating sweets, stargazing and clouds (obviously), dreaming, the ocean, nature in general, relaxing, and strawberries among many other things.

My dream is to live in a world where smiles don't have to be lies anymore. ♥ Oh, and to go ride in a hot air balloon one day. :)

Personal Quote: "I may have my head in the clouds, but at least that lets me walk on air."

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StarInYourSkye

Oct 13, 2009

Hello

0 min read

This is a secondary account, for my poetry. My gallery will have nothing but writing (except for the ID), and I probably won't update this journal too often. I do not plan on watching anyone on this account (I watch too many on my main already), but I will add faves (sorry for a bit of fave-spamming I do, I can't really think of any interesting things to say, so I might comment on one of your works but the other things I fave won't have any of my comments because it'd just be another generic compliment among the rest ^^;). I am willing to do collabs, please note if you're interested. Romantic poems are not my forté, please ask someone