Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Louise Ruen Jan 2017
There's something undeniable in your eyes
I'm a simple mosquito attracted to that light
You're the water that makes me blossom and gives me life

You're the little bit of oxygen in otherwise nitrogen filled air
You're in my blood - or maybe just my blood? - pumping through my vains.

I need you now more than ever.
I firmly belive than you will only have yourself to get you in track in the end, but recently I've discovered "relying" on other people can be a beautiful thing - whether it's your boyfriend, mom or friend
Louise Ruen Jan 2017
I’m completely utterly LOST.
My body was L-O-S-To a mind who thought it would be prettier in a size 0
My soul was L-O-S-To the expectations I saw around me
My heart is L-O-S-To a boy with big brown eyes
My confidence is L-O-S-To the people who talk silently in the corner, and my courage has always been gone.
My mind is L-O-S-To my own worst enemy - myself
I was completely utterly L-O-S-Till I realized that I was L-O-S-Time
will heal all wounds they say but what if the wounds are completely utterly L-O-STains
in my heart, my mind, my soul.
Then what do you do?
I yearn to be F-O-U-N-D
Shaking the past worries and insecurities off me, before 2017 really gets started.
Louise Ruen Dec 2016
...my mom tells me as she tucks me to sleep.
Her eyes are bright blue with similarities to the Tenerife Sea. Solid, bright but with an icy touch. I believe her.
Then my eyelids flutter open after a kiss and I stare into a young man’s brown eyes. Solid, deep, full, sincere, warm. I trust him more than I should.
My own eyes aren’t that easy to decode. They’re a complete mess.
A chaos of color conflicting with eachother, instead of settling on one.
Blue when I wake up,but  green when I step outside.  
If eyes really are the windows to the soul what does that say about me?
Am I splatters of different colors floating around like petals in a mysterious endless lake in the forbidden part of the forest?
Am I a rainbow only to be seen clearly when both rain and sun hits upon me?
Am I a bouquet filled with different flowers plucked different places with different stories?
Forests are easy to get lost i.
Lakes are easy to drown in.
Rainbows are not tangible.
Flowers are pretty but their lifespan is short after having been plucked.
I wish I wasn’t a chaotic mess.
That I wasn’t torn in between the things I want, the things I can, the things I have, the things I want to be.
I hope that one day my eyes and mind will make up their will.
But for right now, I my eyes may stay a chameleon.
Only seen by those who really see.
I guess I've now reached into the coming of age poetry genrer. Interesting.
Louise Ruen Dec 2016
One day a group of young girls were playing with a ball throwing it up the wall and thereafter cathing it.
Then a longhaired lively brunette dropped it out of her hands with a smirk on her face.
The girls and a couple of guys ran hastily after it.

My Heart Is Like A Bouncing Ball
Small, Elastic And Only Good In Certain Envoirments.


The first - let's call him Blondie, picked it up but didn't treat it with caution and it therefore tumbled out again.
Then Blue Eyes tried to make it stand still using clever tricks and persuasive words, even lips.
But now the ball wanted to keep on rolling, searching for new skies wondering how far it could get away from the only playground it had known.
On it's way it met Big Head, who tried to gain the ball many times.
But the ball didn't fall for flatter, and rolled faster than Big Head could run.
And after it had rolled around the earth, almost home, a fourth guy fell over it.
He looked as it with his deer like eyes, and picked it up.
He had been on his own adventure and had just returned back to his own playground.
He waited for the ball to go home, and return back at it's free will.
And to this days it's still his hand's that are closed around the little ball, protecting it.
Apperantly I'm the type of person who will use a bouncing ball metaphor to describe my entire love life, from the day a friend failed my trust to me finally finding love
  Dec 2016 Louise Ruen
nina
i wear your sweaters when you're asleep & i wear them when your not home to remind me of who i am;
your girlfriend, your fantasy, the love of your life;
but suddenly my mind wonders who am i without you?
i've lost myself inside of you, i've buried myself deep beneath your ribcages & made home inside your chest;
but then i remember i never existed to begin with because i've always been a shapeshifter.
twisting & morphing into what everyone else wants me to be, forgetting that i have a body, a mind & a soul all of my own;
feeling guilty for taking a second to breathe through the bars on this jail cell window.
i've been laying on the floor like a carpet,
letting everyone walk on me & pretending that it's completely acceptable;
& i've always hosted the parties to give myself a sense of control when in reality all i'm doing is serving people.
but please, my love, don't misunderstand me;
my love for you is always here inside of me even if it's gone into hiding;
this illness clouding my brain has been growing from a pinprick into a wrecking ball;
turning everything into black & white as if i'm living on a zebras skin.
you always loved the yin & yang symbol, well that's how my mind self-destructs;
for anyone who doesn't know, the yin & yang symbolizes the good & the bad, with a little good in the bad & a little bad in the good;
a small light in the dark & a hint of shadow in the light;
except the way my mind works, there is no flicker of a flame in the darkness & darkness does not exist in the light;
at least that's how my mind perceives things...
when i'm treated with love & adoration, my heart suddenly beats & you are an angelic being i am undeserving of;
but then again i never deserved any form of happiness, according to my thoughts;
when i am treated with abuse & neglect (or what my brain tells me is abuse & neglect), i shut down my emotions & once again become a ghost to my own body;
but then again this hollow numbness is the home i grew up in...
i don't remember much of my childhood & sometimes i wonder if that's a good thing;
was it to protect myself from the horrors that i'm not sure even existed,
or was it really a wonderful childhood that i purposefully forgot so i could give all the blame to my family?
i don't remember much of my childhood but i know i forgot it to relieve myself of some of this pressure;
some of this pressure that pushes down on me every minute of every day;
how do you expect me to feel when every feeling i ever expressed was shoved back down my throat because it was too inconvenient for someone else;
how do you expect me to speak when i was trained to bite my tongue because i was always too intelligent for anyone else's comfort;
how do you expect me to live when all i've lived for was to satisfy the needs of those around me so i could feel worthy of the air in my lungs;
& when i say "you", i don't mean you, just you as one sole being, i mean everyone;
everyone i've ever met has expected something of me;
whether it be my body, my mind, my skills or my words,
my heart, my thoughts, my possessions or me;
& you my love, you are everything to me despite my contradictive actions,
because you're the only one who has ever taken a moment to look at me dead in the eyes & ask me with pure love & selflessness
well what do*  you  want...?
*...i wear your sweaters when you're asleep & i wear them when you're not home to remind me that you love me as much as i love you.
& you may be the only person that could truly know who i am.
Louise Ruen Dec 2016
The truth is the glaze of your eyes.
It beams off you like the sun beams of light.
And ever since I was a kid I would gage at the sun,
wondering if it could really make you blind.

After all these years you gave me the answer
I'm curious - What meaning did you get out of this poem?
Louise Ruen Nov 2016
I'm not the greatest at sharing feelings.
I like to pretend that I'm well liked, pretty and everyone's friends.
I even like to imagine that I in the future there might be a man who I could love, and who might even love me aswell.

Then you came, and I got scared.
Heart locked up but lips sealed
Time for me to search for a bush I could hide under, until my devotion for school forced me to get up and go
Which I did only to realize I didn't feel awkward despite it all.

But it was a night of mistakes. I told you so. Kept telling you so.
You were just the lucky one out of four guys trying the same as you.
So I repeated the sentence to you, until I almost started believing it myself.

While your beard grew longer, I started distancing myself.
But you had put on your running shoes and was ready for a marathon.
Wasn't that what I always wanted?
You beard would move up and down when you would speak  the words than would eventually convince me so.

Because you were third time lucky.
Despite waking up confused, not because of the wine and the *****, but because I felt like I was leading you on, and I didn't want to repeat the already done mistakes, but at the same time loving and finding comfort in your spicey scent. Even your weird *** breath.
No longer able to use alcohol as an excuse to want your lips to find mine.

But I was and am rightfully scared.
When your hands slide down my skin, my mind turns turns a grainy black and white like an old television.
And just like the TV I've slightly stopped functioning.
Broadcasting my insecurities and therefore my biggest fear.
Your arms wrap around me telling me there's nothing to be frightened off, but I'm my own worst enemy.
I guess it reflects just how ****** up I am, and I'm sorry for my never-ending stupidity.
Maybe it's all because you really are too good for me.
I for sure never understood why you stayed.
I still don't understand.
What if one day you realize?
The 'background' story and continuation of "The Bambi and the Highway"
Next page