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6.0k · Feb 2015
Red Wine Lullaby
Anna Skinner Feb 2015
Life through bloodshot eyes
where lovers and needles
intertwine
into railway veins on tile floors
where hands curl around the glass
swan necks
of everlasting empty bottles,
victims of
a red wine lullaby
5.4k · Apr 2015
Thunder Song
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
I listen to the thunder and
wonder
where you went
3.1k · Oct 2014
Bruises
Anna Skinner Oct 2014
Bruises,
an amythest stain of spreading merlot
on white carpet,
the deep blue of the Belizean sea and
the hot weight of you beside me,
crimson blood and rising pain as I
scar myself because of you again,
the flat hazel of your eyes
the last time I saw you.  
Accusatory and pleading,
these bruises bleed fresh and tender
on the surface of my heart as I
will myself to forget you
for the last time.
2.6k · Nov 2014
Boundaries
Anna Skinner Nov 2014
I’ve gotta go home and clean,* you say.
Clean my scent from your sheets,
I want to tell you
Come closer, baby,
Untangle my limbs and
caress me down,
orchestrate my symphonies.
Didn’t you see the stars, too?


I remember your breath all
over me
and how I tasted my very existence
within it.
I remember seeing infinity
in the golden hazel of your eyes,
those **** bedroom eyes,
soothing me past my boundaries,
hands pushing past my hipbones
and into my infinity.

And I want to tell you that I still taste
your lips on my tongue
and I still feel your teeth grazing my skin but
I don’t tell you any of these things.
I look you dead in the eye
those bedroom eyes, boring into mine.
I wonder if you’re playing back the scene
you moving over me
and I say, Okay.

Our whole existence
narrowed into one word
and in that moment I think I hate you
but the thought of your hands on me
still makes my sun rise each day
and I wonder if maybe
I love you in spite of
all the things telling me not to.
Just something I kind of threw on paper.  Hope ya like it.
2.5k · Feb 2017
untitled
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
it’ll be cold later, you say;
dark clouds serve as premonition for the February I deserve,
summer in the first quarter  
sometimes I want to drink so much
i forget my own name
or forget yours;

instead

i laid flat on the pavement tonight,
letting the stones sink into the flat of my skull
wishing the sting of them
could make me forget
all
2.4k · Nov 2014
Bruises (Edit)
Anna Skinner Nov 2014
Bruises—
an amethyst stain of merlot
spreading on white carpet.
The deep blue of the glistening Belizean sea
and the hot weight of you settled beside me.
Crimson blood and rising pain—
I scar myself because of you again.
The flat hazel of your eyes
the last time I saw you,
hollowed by suffering.  

Accusatory and pleading,
these bruises bleed fresh and tender
on the surface of my heart
as I will myself to forget you
for the last time.
This is an edited version of one of my more popular poems.  My creative writing professor suggested changing it a bit, so here it is. Let me know which one you think is better and why! Either comment on here or email me at annaskinner18@ymail.com
2.0k · Dec 2015
Colorado Sky Line
Anna Skinner Dec 2015
Country never felt like home to me.
Kansas open road stretches –
for forever, these empty badlands,
and you screaming next to me out an open patch
of freedom
through the blocked air of my sunroof,
letting your soul run free in the gun slate
of the elastic sky.
Acidic gas station coffee lingers on your lips,
a stained kiss for the magnetic sunset,
while Colorado mountains crest the distant horizon.
Country never felt like home to me,
before roads, before skyscrapers,
before my love of the city,
there was just land, just these mountains.
Country never felt like home to me.
Maybe that’s why I feel so free.
1.6k · Nov 2014
Fingerless Gloves
Anna Skinner Nov 2014
There's never enough tea*, she said,
a single, cold finger tracing the lip
of an empty mug.
Adequate poem for this cold, November day in Indiana
1.4k · Dec 2014
Relapse
Anna Skinner Dec 2014
Addiction
     never ends,
          temptation and sin.

Consumption,
     and then I’m lost.

Drowning,
     floundering,
          gasping for air.

Count the days
     until I feel alright again.

But my addiction
     betrays me
          and with one glance
               at a shard of glass
                    I relapse.
23 times—
     a redemption to make up for
          time lost.
Something old I found in my journal.  Funny how feelings seem to go through a cycle...
1.3k · Nov 2014
All the Places
Anna Skinner Nov 2014
I search for you in the late nights
at the bottom of the bottle.
I look for you in the embers striving to burn
at the end of a dying cigarette.
I ache for you in the arms of a stranger,
a man with different proportions,
a deeper voice, a rougher face.

I’m searching for you in all the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you swore you’d never leave.
But the pale hands caressing your satin skin,
pale hands that weren’t mine
burn in my mind and
I wonder how I’ll ever find you in the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you lost me,
when you swore you’d never leave.
1.3k · Feb 2017
hello, jupiter
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
I have a passion for graveyards,
          for ghosts and secrets lurking below overturned soil,
cracked headstones screaming haunted pledges,
          ripe grass fertilized by those we love.
The perfect place for a sunlit picnic.  

Jupiter hangs low in the pregnancy of midnight,
          lord of my eternity.
A sustenance to fuel my blood and feed my soul,
        we spend our nights swapping juniper berries and allegories.
You’re my albatross, my cemetery stone,
          a Cheshire catalyst embedded in my soul.
1.1k · Apr 2015
Crosswords
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
You never used to be good with words
when they always smoothed from my lips
like a soothing balm.
But now you’re the words
and hidden meanings
jumbled in a crossword puzzle
that I can’t seem to solve.
1.1k · Dec 2015
Skid Marks
Anna Skinner Dec 2015
Skeletal fingers naked of leaves
stretching empty promises
into white skies
I take breaths
between the lines of your garbled
I love yous
whispered into the hollow of
my neck and
all I feel
are broken twigs
against an innocent back

Blurred city lights
palms pressing against fogged
window panes
wishing you were here
the hills and
hollows and
hidden valleys
of my body
calling out into an empty
lonely
night

Water scalding scarlet
running burned fingers over
******* and
belly and
thighs
coaxing old singing love from
white railroad tracks etched through
crystal critical
veins
skid marks from the
love you
left me
with
1.0k · Feb 2017
i am no battered wife
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
the first thing people would say upon our engagement is show me the ring like some bling is an ode of your love to me. i am not a homemaker i am a homebody. i excel in colombian coffee and monday night pub specials and cheap wine with expensive labels. i excel at being one of the guys and by being one of the guys i mean not being your wife. i filled the crevices you scraped in me like some kind of sculptor smoothing over past mistakes like being your wife was some kind of placebo pill i can sweat out with half-empty pizza boxes and grease stains on a couch that was never mine. when i first tell people about us about what i've done they say
but you two fit so well
but i liked you together
but you were going to get married
but but but
but they don't see your knuckles almost shaking hands with my jawline or the time i stared at you deadpan i'm not scared of you and i think that's what scared you that i'm no battered wife that i'll take you all bleed you dry then smile from the corner.
i am no battered wife like the woman who raised you
whose christmas-gifted blanket i'm currently curled under but whose 4 a.m. whispered words i cherish more he can't make you forget what you felt like your lies would forge me into the bat **** crazy ***** you christened me but what i felt in your *****-stained breath amaretto-sweet words ice-diluted eyes was i am no battered wife
i am no laying next to you in bed at 30 with kids i couldn't convince myself to want and bruises that fit your fingers on my ribs. i'll take my tuesday tequila and too-loud laughs, my scrounging for quarters for just one more cup of coffee over your stability smirks.
963 · Mar 2016
These fragile things
Anna Skinner Mar 2016
How do I tell you*
I love the way three dollar wine tastes,
a cheap buzz lighting up my veins,
merlot dripping tears on the floor
I sought for comfort last night.

How do I tell you
That silver is the sweetest color,
singing songs into flesh as I drag her
through scar ridden skin,
opening rivers and avenues
I could be an architect with the way I construct,
drawing with permanent marker on
scribbled, blood stained satin

How do I tell you
I break off pieces of myself,
store them in my broken heart bank,
savor memories for later, when ripped
liquid velvet
doesn't leak onto my fresh floor
anymore

How do I tell you
I curse your nightly name,
thick tongue tasting the
stale sangria of your lips

How do I tell you
How do I tell you
*How do I tell you
936 · Mar 2017
The State of His Uncontrol
Anna Skinner Mar 2017
she ties her ******* thick knot so he can’t **** on it.
she bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes rust, until he finishes and collapses in a post-****** nap.
she is forced to rise after her body’s beating, juggle his child, do the dishes, start boiling the water, prepare his dinner, crack open a beer, unscrew the anti-freeze and pour just enough all with one hand and all before he wakes.
he tells her to sweep the floor but the dust pads her footsteps so she doesn’t wake him and she’s happiest when he’s asleep.
he’s happiest when he has something to complain about, something to force himself into, some cavity to cram in the name of pleasure.  

women are wild horses grazing in forgotten fields, unrequited and unchained beauty admired only by the sun.
women are the lone wolves, leading from behind.
women are the taste of freedom ****** out by a man with hands around her neck and hot breath in her ear asking if she likes it, asking if she wants it harder.
women are the smell of iron and sticky fingerprints, painting red-black odes into cotton canvases, where society can’t stipple or staunch the flow of freedom.
women are mothers before birth to unruly grab-me-a-beer-babe men tossing ***** clothes to a fresh mopped floor and telling her the place is a pit.
women are anger buried beneath flesh, a bubbling riot up and out of their mouths in the form of what they call crazy and what we call just plain tired.

she hands him his beer, smiles as she adjusts the baby.
here, she says, you deserved it.
she tastes those words, the way they weigh heavily on her tongue like stones tossed into a lake to drown.
she tastes those words, the same words he said to her the first time he painted her eye a pretty bruise-blue, pulled her hair like reigns like he actually believed he could control how she built herself.
931 · Mar 2017
love in equations
Anna Skinner Mar 2017
your version of love is an algorithm more basic than take-aways. you're allowed to take as much as you give and you still get a solid number. a real result. but i don't work in binaries and black-and-whites.

love is my negative number and the missing letter to my typewriter i can't find no matter which dusty beasts i search through. it's the bruise on the heel of my palm as i collide with secrets -- swiping hands beneath your sofa searching for my missing key.  

love is your receipt.
here's what you bought, here's what it cost.

i'll register bankruptcy instead. take my seven years and start over instead of being your negative number and unknown variable. a declined credit card stamped on your list of positive transactions.
906 · Apr 2015
Full Hearts, Empty Rooms
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
The moon spills from your eyes,
be the light behind my life,
and if not
I'll love you just the same.
All these scars and their stories,
all these full hearts with their
empty rooms.
Where do we go from here?
My love,
tell me where this road
will take us.
feeling a little lost today
892 · Apr 2015
Midnight Skeletals
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
Breathe life into
the skeleton of my soul,
I want to taste
your smoke lips.

I like it here
in your ocean,
quench the flames of my pain
in the midnight
of your embrace
875 · May 2015
Moth's Wings
Anna Skinner May 2015
Your hands,
like moth’s wings,
pass over my cheekbones,
attracted to the light behind my eyes.
You leave a trail,
like dust from moth’s wings,
as you float off and away
from my life as soon as
the sun rises.
868 · Feb 2017
Pair of Clubs
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
you taste saccharine
like the edge of sin
fermenting honey wine
on heady summer nights

you tend to linger
forbidden fog and shadow mirrors
midnight smoke trailing in your wake
London thunder and hurricane waves

a pair of clubs
the taste of sorrow in my blood
you're magnetic
pragmatic
soul tendrils entangle with mine
beyond crystal eyes

i crave someone with your unconditional flavor
something i can savor
in the high tide of your
luminosity
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
i like to draw with silver
tracing lines of red and
creating brilliant drops
of scarlet paint
and scarlet pain
on a pale canvas
halfway between hell and home

--a.s.
wrote this over a year ago and just now found it again.
840 · Apr 2015
Under a Copper Moon
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
We watched the day die
And fade from our lives
Just like the memories of us
797 · Dec 2015
The Words You'd Say
Anna Skinner Dec 2015
I fell in love with words.
Yours, especially,
imagining them like penciled fonts
with the black tipped crown of an i,
the curves of your tongue as
you uttered blossoms of a promise.

You letters would curl through my mind,
stronger even than the lips
pressed against my forehead
sending me off to sleep,
where I dreamt of the
intricacies hidden behind
the words you'd say.

Pencil fades,
and over time,
so did you.
So instead I was left with
blotted, ****** sheets
as you erased your words
from me.
786 · Feb 2016
soul dream
Anna Skinner Feb 2016
shadows collapse
     at dusk
silent lightening,
     an unknown storm

her heart a bitter white moon,
     and unseen spirit
crows murmur in darkness,
     leaving tell-tale secrets

she shivers
     at midnight
I watch from the cemetery,
     spirits lost in night,
yearning to cup
     her aching bones
779 · Nov 2014
Rolling Tides
Anna Skinner Nov 2014
You hang low in my sky,
     like the moon before the morning—
          an intruder amongst the burning, beating,
               rising sun of my heart.

You make my tides roll,
     and you’re too hot to hold—
          blistering my fingertips
               and branding the melting core
                    of my soul.
email me at annaskinner18@ymail.com to let me know what you think :)
776 · May 2015
Don't forget me...
Anna Skinner May 2015
The sun drowns,
sinking below the Pacific,
the horizon line aflame
with it's last dying declaration,
and she whispers,
her hand cold in his as she fades
into the ocean that consumes the sun,
*don't forget me
a.c.s
757 · Oct 2014
Exhale
Anna Skinner Oct 2014
Inhale,
exhale,
and inhale again.

Blood rises and quickens.
Rushing,
like the resin abducting my oxygen
and holding it hostage.
The smoke before me
that twists and dances and
duplicates,
making love to the air.

I look at these strands
past a foggy haze of uncertainty,
wondering how they fit together
even better than we did
when they are not
tangible bodies.

The strands, they don't hold a heart or listen
to each other breathe as they fall asleep.
And I wonder how this smoke,
how these **** dead wisps,
love each other better than
we did.
750 · Feb 2017
Sacrificial Secrets
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
heartbreak brings out the best in me
eloquent words bleeding onto crumbled pages
lost from the light

the majority of my veins
is weighed down by red wine
violet-stained lips like i've been
******* blood
give us this day our daily bread
instead, i've been ******* souls
from those
i love

forgive me, father, for i have sinned
buried among too many sheets
intoxication boiling just beneath the surface
making friends with all my scars

i really need to stop giving excuses for you
your righteousness carving silver secrets
into the plains of my hips
let me shed my secret
ripe skin stretched taut against bone
bleeds the easiest
hurts the most

at least i have something to remember you by
defensive wounds meant for your heart
flaying myself for your wrongdoings

i see in lilac sunsets
eternally it is i who stands the sinner
as the sun of the day plunges me into
the familiar ache of moonlight
i repent
punish myself
12 silver, sacred Hail Mary's
shedding blood as a
sacrificial apology
and a new day starts, an indigo dawn
but i don't have enough blood
for the both of us
freestylin' it
738 · Mar 2017
drunk musings
Anna Skinner Mar 2017
i’m wearing malbec lipstick at 330 in the afternoon, my own personal hue that stains lips and teeth, drips down my chin so a tongue flicks out to savor the drop. it leaves a maroon trace like i’ve been ******* blood.
when i swill the wine, it captivates me. like i'm swishing around my own blood, praying enough of it sloshes out to **** me.
i’m headed to catholic church in an hour, maybe i’ll light a candle for myself.
god knows i ******* need it.
i’m at that delicate lining, the in-between stage of the five stages of grief. the soft spot at the base of my skull. self-destruct button that’s so tempting, nestled between anger and depression. skip bargaining. take a trip around the sun.
i've lost my hair tie and i want it back.
i've lost my heart and i want it back. ******* give it back.
reapply mauve lipstick the flavor of malbec. go to church. rinse the good off when you get home.
i still feel him inside of me. taking everything. claiming it as his own, two hundred and fifty-eight hours later. like he’s stained me and now i'm tainted and unapproachable. undesirable.
piece of plastic wrap that used to keep his heart fresh, now i'm trash.
now i’m his.
711 · Jan 2017
Kingdom Come
Anna Skinner Jan 2017
give me your sorrow, I'll turn it to stone
give me your scars, I'll turn them to stories

scald me with your molten steel sadness and
watch art bloom from your suffering

erase silver scratch thoughts and
drift away to the scrawl of my pen

watch your pain tattoo these lines, scalding my veins
and spilling onto these pages
683 · Feb 2019
Ashes from Michigan
Anna Skinner Feb 2019
When we all go to Memphis, we spread Ludington sand in Matt’s flower beds,  like somebody died, and a silence falls as we let the sand sift through our fingers like ashes.  It smells like Michigan, like seashells and ***** lake water,  and it drowns out the construction workers making new-money houses.
Instead of funeral hymns, we’re blanketed by sawdust and cigarette smoke.  We sip and savor Evan Williams and for once, none of us speaks.  
Our veins light on fire from the whiskey, and our souls share a collective ache,  like our bodies are made from some sort of symbiotic cell.  

After The Spreading Of The Sand, we go to a haunted bar where entry is a password, where there’s a frown of a front door, and the exposed brick walls reek of the dead girls upstairs. I think, This is Memphis, a very loud city with louder secrets –  the overpowering shadow spreading its fingers in all her corners, silent until she swallows you whole.  

Memphis realigns your center –  
a snap of the blues, a crack of whiskey and,  all of a sudden, things run much more smoothly.  

Memphis, she’s known as the City on the Bluff,  a place where summer storms split at the river,  don’t reconvene ‘til east of Arlington.  
Her protection, it’s always there.  
Like DNA shared among siblings,  blood is always thicker here in her quarters.  

Memphis, she tells me I should’ve kicked Worry to the curb all along.  

Memphis, she keeps her people safe.
680 · Feb 2019
blood in the water
Anna Skinner Feb 2019
men are sharks and weakness is blood  
circle in the shallow waters of my insecurity
eyes flashing with hunger  
bite off a piece of my heart, help yourself to seconds  
let the leftovers go stale  

there’s blood in the water
like hieroglyphics
like liquid hourglass
memories from a wolf pack that swallowed me whole
all that’s left is a jangling bunch of bones
calcium wind chimes
the ghost of my screams will be the trumpet
your beating will be the drums
653 · Apr 2017
First Base at 14
Anna Skinner Apr 2017
i’m 13 and my first kiss is from a boy named nick behind ****’s sporting goods in stale street air. nick’s canadian and when i ask if he can speak french he says no but I can play hockey and that is the next best thing

a week prior when i tell lauren we’ve been dating seven months and haven’t kissed yet she can’t believe it but all i believe is i’m 13 and a first kiss was supposed to be so special
so special i am too scared to close my eyes so my first kiss is a waterfront view of spider-leg eyelashes, too much spit, and all nick.

two weeks later he calls me cherry and i call him kiwi because we think normal pet names are too mainstream.

three weeks later nick breaks up with me when i corner him by the west wing lockers in the middle school by english class. i confront him, lay out the facts, and that is that.
  
i’m 14 and my second kiss is by the bleachers at the high school football game – not behind because behind the bleachers is where kids go for second base and to form ****** lips around leaf sweet smoke.
i‘m 14 and my second kiss is still nick but it’s not all spit and i wonder who he’s been kissing
i’m 14 and my second kiss is to the melody of a collective crowd’s stamping feet and a boy named jared with no real teeth wolf-whistling at us from the corner  
i’m 14 and i remember to close my eyes  

i’m 15 and grind on levi who’s twice my height to a rihanna song at homecoming
his crotch is against my upper back when it should be against my ***
he doesn’t kiss me, drops me off, speeds away in his oldsmobile

i’m 17 and my first **** is with a man named dan who serves at the same restaurant i smile at and hand menus out for tips. i’m his twenty-third and for a while after 23 is my favorite number
i’m 17 and i’m bleeding on dan’s brother’s sheets
i’m 17 and afterwards dan sleeps with a girl named stephanie who probably ***** better than me. i got my ears pierced at claire's last year but stephanie has tattoos between her **** and a dermal.

i’m 20 and barely flinch when i see nick at the local community college. i ask if he still plays hockey and he asks me what good books i’ve read lately and i wonder if he’s any good in bed.

i’m 22 and i’ve laid with a dozen men, all nestled like eggs in my crate of shame

i’m 22 and i've learned to close my eyes until they've finished with me
649 · May 2015
High Velocity
Anna Skinner May 2015
We are hurtling toward an unknown
dark matter,
I want to explore all your
dark places,
taste
your
secrets
and get lost
in all their crevices.
Our darks cancel each other,
and the sun will emerge
from the black night
of my eclipse,
and you will pull me
from my self-dug grave
and into the light.
649 · Apr 2015
*Dark*
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
are you in a mood again?

i am monochromatic
all grays and blacks and whites
no color
not even your amber eyes

a vacant mind
not even fingertips playing symphonies
across hipbones
can sate this soul

dark
not dark like lack of light
but *Dark

like lack of life
and all i think of is
soothing words and bathroom tile,
stained by blood
from my own veins
maybe suicide should show
her beautiful face a bit more often, yeah?

i just want you to be happy
don’t we all?

I’m lonely
aren’t we all?

haven’t you learned by now
that nothing solves this
satiation does not have a place here
and this life is good for nothing
when all you see
is gray and black and white
i am monochromatic  
and not even amber eyes
can bring me back to life
I don't know where this just came from, but it's on paper now.
648 · Mar 2019
The girl with one eye
Anna Skinner Mar 2019
She has a boyfriend who closes his when they play pool,
It’s only fair that way.
She smiles at him over her cue,
all teeth, open mouth and bubblegum lips,
and the ball jumps off the table.
She screeches a laugh,
This girl, she loves loud --
Shaping words to songs,
Dancing with a pool cue,
Framing my face with her delicate touch,
Piano fingers playing etch-a-sketch,
connecting my freckles and bridging gaps,
changing the world.
The sun pours out in her words,
She loves with her smile
And speaks with her hands.
She laughs at a challenge,
always eager to take a chance
I don't feel like this one is done quite yet, but I am posting it anyway!
641 · May 2015
Fade Away
Anna Skinner May 2015
I saw you last evening, beauty,
ivory skin illuminated.
You tore me to ribbons,
          tore me to ribbons
I sewed you in my heart
     so you'd never go away
          you went away
Now my heart is in ribbons,
          in ribbons
And you blew me away,
     with smoke eyes you cast me into
          explosions in the sky
Me chasing all my mistakes,
     you calling me back
Here we are,
     running circles
          running circles
Swinging around each other
     in a trapeze
Just tying our pain into knots
     on top of knots
And we are unable to untangle
     ineffable
          ineffable
So keep your distance
instead of this waltz,
     running circles,
           running circles
around like prey
Fade away, a moon into the night  
      fade away
          fade away
A black hole into my life
640 · Feb 2017
Ceremonial Silence
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
a ceremonial silence fills the space next to me,
the exact width of your chest
a spectrum of sweat-stained sheets
and thick air
a heavy fan thrumming --
it can't replace the lack of breath sounds.

blast the hot water,
let the droplets sear my skin
marking countless valleys where your fingers should be
instead, i'm covered in minor burns,
heart chock-full of sadness

i search for you, but all i get is
a ceremonial silence
and a ****** fan
Anna Skinner Mar 2017
when you go through something trying all the good guys and do-gooders flock to you. they wring metaphorical hands and ask if there's anything they can do, like some baked ziti or wadded handkerchief will caulk your cracks.
then an acceptable timetable for healing goes by and they lay pity eyes on you give you that how're you doing honey smile, but their baked ziti didn't serve as the salve they'd hoped and you're crumbling fast and maybe that pity smile is your solution so you tell them.
you tell them how many times you count the cracks in your ceiling before falling asleep (27) you tell them how many glasses of wine it takes to feel decent again (at least 4) you tell them how many hours it's been since you last ate (56)
and they wish you ate the ******* ziti and blew your nose in damp handkerchiefs because an acceptable amount of time has passed and you should be healed by now, but what they don't know is your timetable is inverted and you work in wrong-way highways. they don't know that time is scar tissue much more delicate than the lock-box you've put him and all the things he did in, and each second chips away at that box and the essence of him is seeping out like acid that melts through all your barriers.
the good guys and do-gooders don't want to open your broken-heart bank and let all the bees out. they want you to eat the ziti and say thank you like it actually fixed something.
638 · Apr 2015
Loose Leaf
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
This deep wander,
my soul -- it slumbers
and lets the darkness
overtake
consume
I am consumed
and
lost
I am losing
I am loose
my soul
it sways
like a loose, stray leaf
lost in the wind
left by your absence
633 · Apr 2015
My Endless Sky
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
You are the first I've loved
with eyes the color
of the endless sky,
you're a
love
suicide
let me get lost in the
cloud of your soul
624 · Apr 2015
Rise
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
The sun always intrigues me,
the way it sets after a long day –
a giant, burning orb,
a heavy heart settled somewhere between the
sky and the horizon.
Yet it still rises each day,
no matter what preceded the present,
it still glows in the east every morning –
peeking toward a new beginning.
I want a heart resilient like that,
rising no matter what obstacles
caused me to set the day before.
And resulting in an explosion so powerful,
that all the universe ends.
616 · May 2015
Velvet Lies
Anna Skinner May 2015
Smooth talker,
with dancing fingers soothing over
sensitive areas.

It won’t happen again, you tell me.
I’ll make this right, you promise.

Your words, like velvet to my fingers,
appeal to my heart ache,

And I almost forget the past
as angry red scars turn silver
and the past's flame fades to a sliver

Yet like ghosts in a Polaroid,
your past comes back to haunt me.

And I think of the curves of another woman
nestled in your velvet embrace

And I wonder if she believed
your velvet lies, too.
570 · Apr 2015
to float away with
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
I finally felt the sun on porous red rocks that day –  
7000 feet closer to heaven, 7000 feet from air that hurts to breathe,
I asked you: why don’t we feel like this every day?
and I didn’t think about the blades I used,
or the pills you took ,
all I could think was those red rocks,
that hot sun, the endless sky, and this beautiful earth sprawled
at our feet, like at that moment we owned it,
the three of us back together again
we breathed – finally free.

but our heaven is 1,000 miles away now,
your absence hurts just the same,
and I’m back to suffocating on this Indiana air,
and all that clouds my mind is
we still have this beautiful earth
and that beautiful week
to float away with.
I miss Colorado
566 · May 2015
Sidecar
Anna Skinner May 2015
The world looks much better
from behind your eyes,
and I would love to view it
in that same light, myself,
but all those little lights
have their own dark corners
from my perspective,
so I'll follow you instead,
out of the dark and into the light,
a passenger in your love of the world.
553 · Apr 2015
Angel Wings
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
I hate what follows September,
when you angel wings won’t
lift me anymore,
and I won’t get to explore
the golden corners of
your soul.

I hate this beautiful earth
for ripping you from my
life.

I hope you enjoy those mountains
and think of me when you see the
depth of those canyons –
just as complex as my heart.
I hope you get the same rush
that I did when
your lips grazed my knuckles.
#a.c.s
549 · Jan 2015
The Void
Anna Skinner Jan 2015
When I heard the news,
I crumbled.
Piece by piece, shards of my heart
fell away,
uncovering a revelation:
You are not the villain after all.

Or maybe, you're clambering.
Grasping onto any similarity
she and I share.
Searching
to fill the void left by me
like I filled that of the one before.

And I realize
maybe we're all just trying to fill
the spaces left by the ghosts
of those we once knew.
547 · Apr 2015
Omens
Anna Skinner Apr 2015
You thought of it as an interesting occurrence,
that raven sitting in the middle of
a busy cobblestone path that day,
a traitor at high noon.
But I saw it for what it truly was,
an omen,
or the irreparable split between us
and now at dusk,
both you and our raven are gone and I want
to call to that bird
and ask why it had to choose me
because I wasn’t quite ready
to lose you
just yet.
527 · Nov 2014
Unheard
Anna Skinner Nov 2014
This is why I don't speak much
Because he doesn't listen
And my declaration gets carried away
Like a whisper in the wind
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