Tag: happiness

Posted in love, poetry

Dry

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

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 dreams, poetry

The Drive Home

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

The Drive Home Windows down in the summertime and my hair is raping my face, stuck to my tinted Chapstick, catching streaks of light as it rages in freedom’s right. Old school Greenday comes on the radio. I listen to the guitar chords, the strumming, ascertaining whether or not I can play it. Am I good enough? I think about how the volume is so loud I’d never be able to hold a conversation in the car, realize maybe I don’t want to, that I like this, just me, my blushed cheeks and dreams of becoming a rock star. —Leanne Rebecca

Soak up the sunshine. My only advice for the moment.

Love,

Leanne

Posted in art, poem, poetry, writing

Hide and Go Seek

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Hide and Go Seek I found her at the bottom of a glass of wine, the second glass actually. She giggled as she unfurled, throwing her hair back like a wet dog shaking out its coat, a declaration of space, blithe dominance with selfish intention, anything for her own comfort. I thought I’d lost her, collapsed under a desiccated heart, trapped in the rubble of self-doubt, forever hiding in the aftermath of tragic non-love stories. I counted to 100, then 1000, opened my eyes and found her right in front of me, stretching in my beverage, peeking out and smirking, the coyness of flirtation, a dare to grab her hand and hold on for the night.

We made it past hump day. Smile 🙂

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Almost

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Almost The day before Thanksgiving— department store shopping— orange and red and green and gold— trees of candy gift sets— sales associates handing out perfume samples— a scream— the grating of the escalator— an 8 year old boy laying across the handrail, clinging— two women prying his body from over the edge— the pause of breathing— the kid enveloped in arms— my mother’s tears as she stood.

Today is the day that Facebook feeds are cluttered with lists. We pick out five or six things we’re thankful for like family, friends, food, faith, etc. I’m not going to do that here. While I am thankful for my parents and my cat and my guitar and my favorite restaurant, today I want to reflect on something a little different.

Lately I’ve been working on loving myself and loving my own company, finding happiness in times of solitude. I went through a period where I lost my admiration for myself and so today, on Thanksgiving, I am thankful for me. I’m thankful for my strength to fight. I’m thankful for my individuality and my love for writing. I’m thankful that I know exactly who I am and I’m thankful that I love her. I am thankful that I am alive.

I pray that you never lose sight of yourself.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Privilege

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Privilege I licked my spoon in the pleasure of indulgence, treating my mom to a couple glasses of wine and two chocolate desserts, both split in commitment to forgetting about men. I ordered another glass and she laughed at my hesitance. This is what life’s for, she said, she said, a woman that owned one dress growing up, a dress her sister had sewn her.

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Ruby

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

RubyI wrote this one quite some time ago, but since today is Twenty One Pilots titled poetry Saturday, it was time to revisit the filed away emotion. Find all my other TOP titled poems archived HERE and check back every week for a new one 🙂

As always, check out the Twenty One Pilots version of “Ruby” below!

 

Posted in Music, poetry, twenty one pilots

It’s not always

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

It's not always***Note: Thank you to Fueled by Ramen for letting me help out at the Vans Warped Tour. Regardless of what this poem suggests, I did appreciate it and had a good time! Kyle it was nice to meet you 🙂 |-/

Posted in poetry

Fluid

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Fluid