Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
She has never taken a silver spoon to the contents of her head,
or buried her body in a lover's empty bed.  

She is not the old jacket hanging on the back of the chair-
but the inhabitant, a throne's rightful heir.
I imagine a life where there are no ghosts in the mirror;

when friends talk about their fathers, there's no bile in her throat-
the thought of spilling the contents of her stomach is an unfunny joke.
She doesn't change into her clothes as if a gun ha
d been pulled,

or dream of Icarus’ voice, “Jump” he goads
She looks both ways before crossing the road.

Her fingers don't pry at a laceration's half-hearted mend
or dig into her womb when the wind howls for her end.

Substances don’t brush away her thoughts,
Or birth them again.

This stranger version of me-
probably so easy to understand-
not a martyr in the least.

However,
I imagine without these callous grooves in my flesh;

I couldn't figure out how to fill the empty spaces of others
or hide myself
just right
under the covers.
pondering who I might be, had certain privileges not been taken from me
I now know
I lost my mind
In pain I grasped for life
In life I clung to death
Not knowing
Not thinking
Just grabbing lips
Crawling into arms
Mattered not
They were not yours
For years after you died
I was not me
I had no self
I cared for nothing
My heart was broken
Leaking pain
Into everyone
Not caring
Just taking
5/22/2017
 May 2017 Louise Ruen
cassie sky
Maybe twilight time
Is a small slice of heaven
Seeping through the cracks
 May 2017 Louise Ruen
Chelsea Rae
Why am I always waiting for a hand
But one that reaches for more than this body.
One that reaches for my soul and one that wants to touch parts of me no one else has felt beyond this common skin.
Reach into my dreams and heart and mind,
Find me in the murky lost abyss that is
This wandering being.
 May 2017 Louise Ruen
The Calm
Looking down into the valley from the mountain high
I can finally breathe again
I smell the fresh air and it smells like springtime again
I no longer fear for my soul,
No longer feeling the chill of imminent danger again

As I stand there looking at the forest below
I see the life I left behind me
I see the trees, the vines that tried to bind me
I see the leaves of the forest which hid me from the son, tried to blind me

I stand proud on top my mountain
I think about the snakes, the wolves that hissed and howled, told me that I'd never leave
That tried to take my joy every time I started to believe

The trees spoke, they said,
run run as fast you can, can you get out alive
will you fall or will you stand.
I burst through the last trees and I started to climb
No end in sight but to get away from my past it was time

The climb was nothing short of sublime
But anytime you begin to climb, physically and mentally prepare for it's wartime
All your old demons will call you, like your primetime on a hotline
See your past will not make it easy for you to be free....

But I get to the top, and what do I see,
all my old demons at the bottom, looking up at me
I turn around to embrace my new destiny amazed by what I saw
A whole new forest....waiting for me.
Life is about constant growth
 May 2017 Louise Ruen
wordvango
I feel it arising
that deep down inside feel
my eyes clear
the pages  open
the words flow
arrange theirselves
in certain
configurations
and the paper
takes it all
like a lover you
met
long ago
Next page