a poem for my she wolf queen
- realshepower
- Aug 28, 2019
- 2 min read
By Yomna
my she wolf is a queen with a crown of flowers. she is an alpha whose lover abandoned her after their first kiss. her fur is the scars i hide under my clothes the way she hides the hair forever stained by the blood of her victims.
i am a she wolf whose only prey is herself.
i hide myself under fabrics, under words, under smiles, under assumptions I let others make about me.
my she wolf has two lives. one committed to be the perfection everyone seeks for her and the other trying to stay alive.
my she wolf can try teaching her bones to curve into swirls forever ready for an embrace, but like a piece of chalk, they will break and powder to parts small enough for the open windows to swallow.
my she wolf can try to paint her skin with the shade they were born to be instead of the pastel purples and pink, but just like mascara, the fake normal facade will melt down.
my she wolf wakes up every day with new scars that she doesn't know where they came from. she bleeds the regret of moments she spent silent. my she wolf cuts her flesh because she feels like it is not hers.
she feels like it belongs to other animals.
my she wolf cried her sad poems so many times taking gravestones as an audience, so she doesn't understand why the skies rain when she howls her pain to the moon.
my she wolf is a hero whose cape turned out to be broken shells from beaches crooked in salts that precipitate on her eyes as she denies for the one millionth time that she cried.
my she wolf gets sick of being strong sometimes, and that is something she is ashamed of.
her precious grey silver coat was taken as rags worth being exchanged between filthy hands, so yes she cries hoping that tears could wash it.
my she wolf is scared of the seeds her past had grown inside her. she feels like a prison for a monster she never encountered.
and every night, she whispers silent shaky wishes escaping from shredded lips...hoping that she never does.
