©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse
Bio
Hi! I'm "That Girl Muse," author, artist, muse, poet, surrealist and spirit guide, who uses creativity as a means to heal the mind. Each poem's a lil' bit of Inure Muse's story @Find_the_muse & support my work. You can also book me online!
Stories (112/0)
You're right...
Ok, you're right. I'm aware that I'm beautiful.Yes, my buttocks are firm, like an apple, and my titties are supple.I guarantee I can slip and slide all day on that shit and make the earth rumble.Granted, I know I am a challenge, sometimes, and occasionally grumble. I have survived some pretty fucked up rumbles and still, live to write poetically about it and not stumble.
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
I knew this guy once...
I knew a man who I loved once (and love still). An Adonis with dark eyes, dark thoughts, with a warm heart. I fell in love with the way his spirit romanticized my soul from the beginning. We played around with our hearts forgotten and frayed in a frivolous kind of situation.
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
This isn't...
This isn't one of my good days because I've been depressed, irrational, emotional and hypomanic suffering from insomnia for the last three days. Mom's been over for the fourth time today, fiddling with the shower curtains and the rod to Feng Shui my motivation to shower and shave. Unfortunately, I am a slave to this psychological menace inside me because it has nearly eradicated spirit and won't let go of me. I'm crying out for help and I wish those of you could hear me. I'm trying to tell you what I can with the words in my poems and share what this is doing to me; preferably before this condition takes full control of me.
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
Washed in a Wave
I'm in the shower and I start thinking to myself, 'If only I could wash the problems from my life the way I wash dirt from my skin'. Could I possibly efface the trauma in my soul, deep within? I don't know where to begin. Maybe I should start by loving myself. Stop trying to please the guy or girl who can't love me, the family who for some reason thinks they're above me and learn to recognize my value; I am a queen the likes of which no one has ever seen, a diamond in the rough ready to polished so that I gleam.
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
I Don't Feel...
I don't feel the spark of joy I once felt with you. I used to love, family gatherings at Auntie Norma's and playing old school Nintendo, in Auntie Beryl's basement with Stevie, or DOOM and Lemmings, on the computer in the attic with Garnet. I enjoyed flying to Chilliwack with Uncle Billy in his sestina plane to get the perfect slice of blueberry pie. I loved kissing Claudia for hours on end with her mother just upstairs in the kitchen when we should have been studying for Spanish class. I loved it when Kyle told me he first loved me and put his grandparents' rosary in my hand before he hugged me.
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
We Hadn't Talked
I hadn't talked to my aunt in ages. Not since uncle had his mishap that summer. Now the drinking had taken its toll and fucked up his kidneys and his liver. And yet, here she was on the phone talking to me. I told her I had surgery coming up and I didn't want to do it. She told me, she understood how I was feeling perfectly well back in her younger years, in fact, around the same age as me, she had gone through a similar feat and nearly died. Believe me! To be honest I don't think either of us had tears left to cry about the lives we were given. Auntie said, "you just have to come to grips with yourself and carry on despite this shit and keep on living."
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
I Met the Love of My Life
"I met the #love of my #life once..." @ a bus stop on Brock holding my swollen cheek, hurting from impacted wisdom teeth. And as I crossed the street his big brown eyes glanced over, for a moment, at me and I swear to God it's like they peered right through me.
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets
On Lunch
I remember mom, being pissed when she came to pick me up at the Save-a-mart, saying: "those 'friends,' of yours including those girls you got caught with? Are trouble. Idlers... under achievers. I mean, you know that this is bad behavior! I don't know why you're out here, clucking with chickens...when you could be soaring with eagles, focus on other labours."
By ©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse4 years ago in Poets