Submissions by Ruthsan
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Inspired by heartbreak and the challenges of being a young adult. At times, I write when I'm high. I'm learning to let my creative juices flow
To my father
My father doesn't know how to deal with his own pain. He's buried it so deep he doesn't recognize himself.
I look at him and it is written all over his face, Is it written all over mine?
There is no shame in wearing your scars like the clothes on your back.
I am trying to understand the roots of my pain, to lighten to load for the both of us
I look at him and it is written all over his face, Is it written all over mine?
There is no shame in wearing your scars like the clothes on your back.
I am trying to understand the roots of my pain, to lighten to load for the both of us
465 reads
You
You,
how do you mask your pain so well?
Making it almost impossible to read
You,
Life has taught me better
Behind that unwavering confidence,
a trembling boy
with clenched fists.
Let me open up your pages
Reread them to understand
What molded the magic I see in your eyes
how do you mask your pain so well?
Making it almost impossible to read
You,
Life has taught me better
Behind that unwavering confidence,
a trembling boy
with clenched fists.
Let me open up your pages
Reread them to understand
What molded the magic I see in your eyes
700 reads
1 Comment
Potential Love
My heart could learn
To melt at the sound
Of your voice
To melt at the sound
Of your voice
577 reads
2 Comments
Abandonment
Your abandonment felt so familiar
I met you, a handsome stranger
Took your hand
Guided it, pointed to old wounds
And said, "this is where I bleed"
And, "this is how".
I wanted them to heal
To use your touch,
your kisses,
your words,
like sutures.
But instead, you covered my skin
With hands like anasthesia
You looked at me and said,
"trust me".
And you still left
Me bleeding the same way
Old wounds punctured,
New wounds opened,
I don't know how to heal.
I met you, a handsome stranger
Took your hand
Guided it, pointed to old wounds
And said, "this is where I bleed"
And, "this is how".
I wanted them to heal
To use your touch,
your kisses,
your words,
like sutures.
But instead, you covered my skin
With hands like anasthesia
You looked at me and said,
"trust me".
And you still left
Me bleeding the same way
Old wounds punctured,
New wounds opened,
I don't know how to heal.
668 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ruthsan
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