Posted in love, poetry


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 art, honesty, poetry


Fade  Forgotten at 80 miles an hour, headlight after headlight found and lost again, boxes kicking up dirt from the road, moving the dust of passing time, the remnants of traction shifted in changing flight, machines, the people inside faceless to the night.  I’m invisible as I drive and know the tail lights ahead can’t see me cry or wonder why my hand rips at my hair as I choke on lyrics, words caught like flies in my windpipe, bowing to the mercy of whatever needs to be screamed and silenced before I reach home.  Would he notice if I faded into the shadows between the street lamps, pulled the car to the side of the road and abandoned this enterprise? Or has he forgotten my face,  my name as I speed along the highway in my box, collecting dead bugs, nameless to sight.

This poem didn’t capture everything that I needed to say tonight. I’m not sure what it is that I need to say right now or really what emotion I’m currently feeling. Everything tonight is nameless and blurry, and that’s how I feel about this poem. It works because it’s messy and introspective and unclear and honest, but it’s still missing something. It’s missing heart.

Good night my friends,

Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, rhyme, writing

The Not Quite

The Not Quite  I only thought about it for one hour a day, in the hours of bedtime tea, my reflection staring back at me while brushing my teeth before the siphoning of light  as night’s shadows settled in my eyes.  Only in that time did I feel like the not quite, drifting to sleep in the lullabies that haunted the air in my lungs, analyzing too intensely the songs sung in the daylight.   Only in that hour did I give permission to disclose this expression, my secret anxieties to flood my sheets as pinot noir pinked my cheeks, a rush of heat in a kiss of honesty.   Only then did I question everything, the not quite searching for a reason, deciphering the origins of these lesions, falling into dreams gripped by a heart stripped to its vulnerability.

Uncharacteristic rhyme tonight. There’s something about this poem that I really love. I almost didn’t write one, just thought maybe I’d let the TV drown out thinking until falling asleep, but I couldn’t just ignore my inner poet fighting to come out. She didn’t want to be ignored and I’m so glad I listened.

Good night!

–Leanne Rebecca

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

Ode to Sleep

Ode to SleepWhat can I say…I’m a 23 year old that’s still afraid of the dark.

Today’s poem is inspired by the Twenty One Pilots song bearing the same title. Check out their version of “Ode to Sleep” below and take a peak at the archives of all my TOP titled poetry HERE and every Saturday in the recurring series!