emilyegould

Momma said to never marry an astronaut, they will always prefer the twinkling starlight to the light in your eyes. They'll only end up in ships that float aimlessly in zero gravity and you will not be there. Momma said to never marry an astronaut. You will stand firmly on the earth, clutching the ground and knowing they will always prefer the twinkling starlight. Planets will fracture and stars will collapse long before he recognizes he can travel to the light in your eyes.

i have a dictionary full of pretty little definitions, you see. hey, let's start with un-a-ware; a fragile little (adj.) describing my take on the world and yours on me. ig-nore; a (v.) you've turned into hell on earth for me yet you can't even begin to know now we have un-re-quit-ed; (adj.) meaning not acknowledge, not returned not even given a single thought to i guess you are blind; yet another (adj.) you'e oblivious to my effort, unseen after all this i might as well sur-rend-er; (v.) "to give up completely or agree to forgo, especially in favor of another"

I call them fragments, the parts of me that were too exhausted to stay. He calls them flecks because I am a flake. I wish I was a flake. It sounds prettier than being a fragment. Flakes are like snow. Soothing, falling from the sky on the tip of his tongue that melt and disappear. Fragments are archeological findings of a scarred past we really should not remember. I want to remember my scars. So I am a fragment. - I draw on my legs. When my skin dries out, I use my index finger as a pencil and draw what the clouds are trying to tell me. Sometimes it’s a dog, and sometimes it’s a bear and sometimes it is his face looking at me

Describe to me what you see When Violet kisses a sunsets cheek Tell me what it's like to be a White cloud adrift at a mountain peak Show me what it is you feel When Orange steals away Blues bliss Give to me a gift to see How lovely Yellow deserves a kiss And when you can't tell me how Red spills over a wound unhealed And if you cant show me now When Green cascades over begging fields I'll tell you what I hear When Black sleeps in a shadowy grave I'll tell you how it feels, my dear To never know the colors I crave

Coffee. Iced coffee. Iced coffee is my favourite type of coffee. I don’t normally like normal coffee, because the heat of it detracts from the taste. When you take a gulp of normal coffee— well, I say gulp, but in actuality you have to take quick sharp sips, because it’s too hot to gulp, really. But when you take a gulp of normal coffee, you can’t enjoy it, because all the little coffee molecules rumble down your throat like little bubbling bumble bees. The heat makes the particles excited, and they rush around in great surges of energy. They walk into each other and drop what they’re carrying. “Sorry, my f

It's 3:19, And I can't decide , If this is what I want, Anymore. This flesh inside me is dead, These tears are ice cold, Preserving the shell in which I hide in, Beneath it's bumpy skin, Under the dirty finger nails, And through the bloody streams inside, I am hidden. The words in my throat toss and turn, Mewling over the options I've left now, Trying to turn the battle into my hands, But now I'm loosing more than my sanity, And I can't stand this, Numb relationship, I have with this world.

“I need space,” he quietly states But dear, what do you mean? Do you mean you want the planets, the asteroids, the sun? Do you mean you want the stars, the galaxies, the moon? Do you want to rent a room, inside a great black hole? An infinite vacuum, a quiet location, solitude for the soul? Oh yes, my dear, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of space in there Oh yes, my dear, in there, It’s as empty as you.

When I was a little girl, I was told never to look into the sun but to admire the beauty and light it's rays blessed us with from afar. I didn't follow that advice, I looked straight up into that clear blue sky. I wanted to see the flaming ball of fire that no one else dared look at, I wanted to know what everyone thought was so special about it when all I saw was a painfully bright light far away up in the distant skies. Instead, I see black dots and lose my balance as my vision goes blurry, Slowly... my descent begins... When I was a little girl, I was told that there are patterns in the stars, things called constellations that made pictur

 It seems as though, to society, to live is to breathe, eat, sleep, drink...using the ingredients that is needed to continue life without really thinking that, just because you’re alive doesn’t mean you’re living, and I feel as though people often forget that. The act of being alive isn’t enough. And in the end, why do you live? What was the purpose of your life? How did you contribute to society? Help those around you? Dare to ask questions and demand for answers? Bob Marley had once said: “Open your eyes, look within. Are you satisfied with the life you're living?” For me, to be alive isn’t enough.

but I've got a feeling I will someday. Today is the second day of summer and it's raining outside, yet I'm sunny inside because I've got your freckles to wake up to. And I know this won't last forever but that doesn't matter 'cause you make me feel like it could, which already scares me enough cause we're way too young to think about forever. I feel too young to even think about next year. However I can think about you, and when I do it's sunny inside my veins. Come on close your eyes, let's not think about forever, let's not think about tomorrow, let's just find out how our bodies work, search for ways they fit together and ways they