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Vanessa rue Aug 30
walking a rowdy street
tight grip on the leash
streetlight lays it bare
light pooling on my reach

panorama:
 the leash, in pieces

Anna in daylight,
 hands steady, calm and bright
 embracing cracked margins —
 called it love, her rite

but her fawn,
 beneath thorny shadows drawn
 the same leash condemned
 its trembling spirit wan

broken—
 yet a gift unspoken

street cries, in sight
echo through the night
my mom slipper
splintered floor mat

hand rusted, hovering
breaths **** the air

lean, bend, chase
shifted rooms, his question:
“who you think you are”

foot sinks
in lakes of red ashes

fog bends
ashes stay

pillow strikes
blue soles pressed
decades deep

his shadow clings
a silent fling

time drips
floors creep

hands tremble
bodies wonder

ashes whisper
fog swallows

i wonder sometimes
sometimes, people need to understand that not every type of grinding can be justified, some just exists to be. that's it. scares me at night
Vanessa rue Aug 29
civilisation ruined  yellow grass
even weeds choke  on concrete air
december light
  29 days  too bright
for a cage  in the zoo of pay gaps

i ate tradition
blind  honey-drenched
we called it sweet
we called it choice
but it was  silence
silence  we’ll torch

it was only 27 minutes
after i saw you
you said
kitchen’s your place

power for you
was a kink  dressed as culture
prejudiced not me
just fluent in the syllabus
of being dismissed

je viens d’un milieu instruit
say it again
it tastes better  than your name

whatever was fertile
you called us  hole
the rest of us
just holes for power
****-coded
nescient
background noise

you left-clicked
then ran

priest  priest
i saw you in the mirror
when i lip-serviced truth
truth-teller  from bone
no father  in my tongue

your patri-architect face
brief in my heel’s reflection
divine glitch

hey sir  mansplains-a-lot
aphrodite wept

you fear
kittens  museums
and anything that stays
from your father’s echo

god became a sermon
about control

you keep licking the wrapping
never opening the gift
you call independence
a flu

but even yellow grass
cracks cages
when wild enough
to breathe
I wasn’t trying to be profound, it’s just the only language I’ve got left, feels like coughing up glass and dressing it as poetry so no one calls it pathetic.
Most of it I don’t believe, I just keep talking because silence sits heavier and I can’t carry it without cracking somewhere obvious.
Call it performance or confession or whatever, it’s just me playing sincerity badly, with that sliver of truth that never quite washes out.
Vanessa rue Sep 10
She lost perspective before she met the glass,
Braces on lips like wine, a fleeting stain.
Golden hair pulled too tight, youth locked in place,
Slipped like coins into the senex’ fragile purse.

Concealed in lockets, veiled from prying eyes,
Alluring hunters sought her tortured grace.
Through dusty rafters, golden strands would rise,
Brushing his scars beneath the public’s gaze.

No one regarded the banker’s loss or coin;
Old men still scattered mints upon the floor.
Some whispered fate had favored her to join,
Others claimed the devil had opened the door.

The wise, unmoved, declared with measured breath:
All that has come is better—even death.
time’s easier to bear if it was never meant to last
starving’s the only way to be a seeker
of affection that’s just a hoax
Vanessa rue Sep 15
courage is failing
fear is daring
good hides in attempts.

— The End —