Author: SHE'S IN PRISON

Poetry and music.
Posted in poetry

Basic Needs

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Basic Needs

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.

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Petty Things

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Petty Things

I’m too young to be getting older, and too old to still be so young. It’s a lot to think about.

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Bravery

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Bravery

I’ve been trying to post this poem for a week and a half, but my computer wouldn’t let me save it no matter what I tried. I started to think maybe it wasn’t meant to be shared, but I refused to listen.

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I See You

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I See You

Smile, we made it to Friday.

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Stunted Growth

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Stunted Growth

Writing is therapy.

I bought a mini notebook today to keep with me everywhere I go. I used to do that, wouldn’t have been caught dead without a journal and a pen, but I’m out of practice, neglecting that side of me for months, forgetting who I am and what I want and where I’m going.

I’m not sure I can answer any of those questions right now, but I’ll get there, one day at a time.

Thanks for sticking with me on here.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in poetry

The Story of Us

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The Story of Us

I’m finally starting to feel like a poet again. No, I’m not writing as much as I used to, but maybe that’s ok. It’s what’s real.

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Bedtime

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Bedtime

I haven’t written in quite awhile. Something grabbed me tonight though and suddenly I had no choice. Sleep well, old friends.

Posted in love, poetry

Dry

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Dry I was so used to feeling soggy, soaking wet underneath cascades of gray, shoes weighing my feet, filled with the water collected from my head to my toes that I couldn’t fathom another existence. It rained everyday until it didn’t. —Leanne Rebecca

The sun will come out tomorrow, and when it does, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in love, poetry

Ghost Hunting

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Ghost Hunting He appeared in front of me like an apparition. I blinked for weeks, expecting the lights to stop playing tricks on my eyes, but the evidence of his existence only solidified as this spirit before me exposed its form, no longer desire’s ghost, but a corporeal truth affirmed by touch, my ear to his chest, his beat, by the pain in my cheeks, laughing from joke to joke, and by the promise that we could see the other, that it was real. —Leanne Rebecca

She’s in Prison has been my baby for 2 1/2 years, and possibly the most crucial 2 1/2 years in terms of growing up. I can look back through the archives and relive all the phases of my early 20’s. Now I enter a new phase of discovering who I am while sharing all of me with another person.

If you’ve noticed my absence on here the past couple months it’s because I’ve been doing just that: dedicating every spare moment I have to falling helplessly in love.

I hope you had a great weekend!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in love, poetry

Embrace

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Embrace I feel the ghost of his arms lingering on my shoulders like hints of cologne left trailed on a pillow, literal miles separating our embrace dissolved by a connection that transcends physical sensation, his touch echoing all day long regardless of distance. He holds me even when he doesn't know it, the ghost of his arms warming my core like a coat that keeps the chill away.

It’s been so long since I’ve posted a poem on here that I feel as if I should reintroduce myself. Hi, my name is Leanne. I’ve taken brief hiatuses from She’s in Prison before, usually the result of needing to take time to sort through emotional challenges or press the reset button on life to overcome various struggles. This break, however, was purely the result of being so happy that I didn’t need poetry for a minute.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in love, poetry

Starlight

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Starlight There’s a time of night that slices bravery into pieces, and maybe those are the stars, just broken bits of your soul flickering like beacons calling to your physical body, just pieces of your heart figuring out how to keep shining when the expanse of the universe stands between reuniting you and those lonely bits. And somehow your eyes keep twinkling in those hours right after dusk, when the street lights ease into consciousness, illuminating the shadowed world around, reflected in the damp whites of your eyes, the great big world swallowing your courage to face the dark, to face tomorrow when the stars above seem so far away. I’m standing still, looking up at those pieces of me, the freckles of the sky, and I’m thinking about how random they’re scattered, no sense of alignment, chaotic, like settled confetti, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever find all those pieces, those bits of bravery lost to the clouds. And I keep thinking maybe that’s why I’m terrified to give my heart away, scared what would happen if the stars started to move. I wish I could close my eyes and see a map of where they’re headed, those bits of me wandering the universe, waiting, but nothing’s there behind my lids. —Leanne Rebecca

It’s an Ingrid Michaelson night tonight.

Posted in poetry, what else is new

Between the Drops

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Between the Drops I like what this hoodie stands for, caught in the blur of drizzle, hair frizzing in the mist of bipolar rain. I’d rather stay here, singing in the gray, the tug of war of rainbows and pain, than blind my eyes with unfiltered sun. —Leanne Rebecca

Sometimes I get mad at myself when I write cliche images, like anything inspired by the weather or an errant flower growing from the cracks of a sidewalk. But as “been there done that” as this poem might be, it doesn’t change that the sentiment behind it is 100% true in this moment.

Shout out to Matt and Kim– “Lookin’ like a king with a hoodie on.”

Good night!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in heart, poetry

As Emo as the Moon

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As Emo as the Moon I thought I’d write about the moon, relate the spectrum of stasis to its phases, as anorexic as its crescent thaw, unhinged in the glow of its full peak. I thought I’d write about him, the waiting game of lust’s impatience, aging though his silent draw, intoxicated in obsession’s keep. But as I sing the moon’s luminosity, its brilliance heating in a fever’s stage, I rethink love’s blind fall, and reclaim this heart, this shadowed heap. The moon will rise tomorrow night and I will scale the expanse of darkened sky, my shoes untied from desire’s draw, free, swept through stars by poetry. —Leanne Rebecca

Today someone said to me that the light in my eyes has returned. It struck me (in a good way) to hear that. I know the moment that it came back. It was the moment I decided to stop dating.

For three years I’ve bounced from date to date from guy to guy, crashing and burning over and over and over again, convinced in the end that I was incapable of sustaining a romantic relationship, that I was somehow less than, unworthy. The more I dated the more I lost myself.

About a month ago I called it quits, not from exasperation, but from a deep desire to explore my own heart, discover what I love and feed my passions with as much attention as they deserve. For the first time in three years all the pressure is gone and I’m rediscovering the girl I once was, a girl unafraid to sing her spirit, that dances in the car like no one is watching.

I never thought I’d say that the best decision I ever made for myself was to stop dating, after all, we all want to find true love and everyone says the only way to find it is to put yourself out there. But if there’s one lesson I can take away from this last month of soul searching it’s that there’s no hurry.

Take care of yourselves my loves!

–Leanne