Tag: self-confidence

Posted in art, image, poetry, writing

Naked

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Naked I stumble to the full length mirror on the closet, squinting through the sleep still in my eyes not yet adjusted to the artificial light, abrasive and unforgiving. I lift my shirt to assess yesterday’s damages, exposing the angles of manipulation to the judgment looking back, sucking it in from all sides, strategizing an outfit to minimize the lumps, a necklace to draw the eyes up, applying concealer to the body like I would a blemish, bathed in the makeup of a wardrobe.

I’d be hypocritical if I told you not to look critically at yourself. After all, I write poems that explore the complexities of who I am–the good, the bad, the perplexing, the mundane, and the ridiculous. I write to understand why sometimes I struggle with certain emotions and other times I can brush them off. I write to know more about myself, looking critically at the dark corners of my brain. I dive deep, drawing out secrets that hurt or burdens that tug down at my shoulders. I find this kind of analysis scary, but cathartic.

I know who I am and refuse to change. I’m stubborn like that.

All this being said, I also caution this critique of yourself, especially when it crosses into physical appearance. It’s always good to strive for something. It is never good to torture yourself in the process. I promise, you’re more beautiful than you know.

Tell me which aspects of yourself that you are head over heels in love with. I absolutely adore my sarcasm. I smile at my gift for all things random. I love that I can totally rock bedhead.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Emotional Creature

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Emotional Creature There's nothing wrong with me. I'm swallowed by feeling, the realness of feeling, feelings not wrong, just deep, deeper than yours, extreme manifested in shakes, holding my stomach. There's nothing wrong with me. I stand in front of the toilet weigh the pain, it hurts no matter what, hurts more than you could know. I'll never say, just hold my stomach in silence. There's nothing wrong with me. I curl my knees in, shoulder crammed to the floor pools beneath my face drowning in feeling. I feel. I live. I feel. There's nothing wrong with me.

I’m currently obsessed with “Out of the Woods”on Taylor Swift’s new album and that is the most important news I have to share. Sing with me.

Have a splendid Wednesday, friends.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

The Saga of a Heart

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

The Saga of a Heart

This was one of those poems that poured out without intention or thought. 20 seconds of real life. 

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, creative writing, poetry, writing

The Last Word

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

 

The last Word A poem can be a line, she said. I couldn’t leave it without justifying, barking thoughts after the fact, a defense mechanism, an expression of my own apprehension to accept simplicity. I worry what they all think, what he thinks, fear manifested in ramblings that say nothing. A poem can be a line.

I’m having an out of body experience at the moment, looking at the last week of my life from across a room. I see it and I think I feel it, but I can’t quite believe it’s mine. 

Celebrate luck with wine, good food, and many many hugs. 

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

The Way Those Jeans

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

The Way Those Jeans They buttoned, a victory of at least getting into their confines, even though I had to jump and wiggle to manipulate the dimensions, even though I reinvented their intended silhouette, even though I challenged the fabric to stretch beyond its comfort zone, even though the mannequin wore them higher across the middle, and even though I refused to leave the safety of the dressing room, I loved the way those jeans fit. Find the confidence in yourself to feel sexy. The struggle is real in all of us. Tell someone you love that they’re beautiful today.

Have a merry Sunday, friends!

–Leanne Rebecca

 

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Overlooked

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Overlooked I wore a pearl necklace to feel pretty. I wanted the attention, for the guy making my latte to look twice, for my coworker to shoot me a jealous glare, for a young girl to see me with envy gleaming in her eyes and think someday I want to be her. I wanted to taste affection’s dessert, the outpouring of desire in salivating mouths, to be the chocolate mousse that causes moans, irresistible. But all they saw was the necklace. I like your necklace. What a gorgeous necklace. They saw the chocolate shavings decorating the mousse, snacked on the garnish like kids sneaking a finger full of icing from the cake. They saw pearls on a mannequin and finished their window shopping with a cookie from the food court.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Distorted

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Distorted

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

Lovely

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

LovelyHow do you make someone believe they’re lovely? More importantly, how do you make yourself believe that you are lovely? It’s a question that no one can answer for you but I encourage you to explore it. And in the meantime, check out the song “Lovely” by Twenty One Pilots below (it’s one of my favorites!) and peruse the archives of my other TOP inspired poetry HERE! Happy Saturday!

http://youtu.be/Q2Vf-ujUF-Y

 

 

Posted in poetry

Size

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Size