Listen to Ivy read Free


I stand alone and naked on the roadside while strangers rush by in cars blinded by busy lives and little time.

I wait for you to come.

Alone is taunting me. She wants me to spend my tears on your sometime sensibility, which isn’t worth a sad cent. I remind myself of this as I stand alone and naked on the roadside while strangers rush by. Alone soon realizes I’ve found my strength. She goes silent when a tear doesn’t drop at my expense.

I wait for you to come.

Naked is whispering in my ear. She tells me I’m as unwanted as the dandelion standing next to me. I chuckle at the ignorance. The honey bee lusts for yellow blooms, so I draw strength from that flower. Neither unwanted nor unappealing, I stand tall and proud while busy lives rush by.

Dandelion and I are nature’s gems.

Dandelion and I are wise.

We know you will not come.

I step out of Naked and leave her behind. Like a snakeskin, she lies on the roadside where you should have met me on this solemn day.

I know you will not come and it doesn’t matter to me.

I walk away from Alone. She keeps pace with my footsteps as a good shadow does, but I’ll never welcome her inside. Not again.

I know you will not come, it doesn’t matter to me, and I’m smiling.

I am no longer alone and naked while strangers rush by in cars blinded by busy lives and little time.


I’m with myself.

I see me.

I’m dressed in myself.

I feel me.

I no longer need your sometime sensibility.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

I’m free.


6 thoughts on “Free

  1. Strength, Ivy. That words speaks in ten thousand tongues through Free. Each laced with the self-love so desirable that I step out of Naked and into its otherworldly wake. I feel the Dandelion bloom as I write this, such is the extravagant reach of said verse. Your delivery, pitch-perfect as is forever the case, is the very embodiment of fire, yet delicate in every flame. Measured through every vein. Bled from the very deepest grain.

    Art provides the ideal canvas to shed our Snakeskin vestures and caress the all-together. You do so here ex-fucking-quisitely. I could hear the bustle of cars as busy lives passed by. Howbeit, they made no discernable sound. Felt dressed in you. Nestled in the breast of you. Such is the gift of expression so pure that it dances from parchment and into the reader’s core being. My Monarch of the Glen—Your each creation steeps with Zen.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You get it, My Brave. Every time. The meanings diversify each time I read it–this verse that wrote itself this morning. You know I deeply appreciate your belief in me. I’m fortunate to have you encouraging me. Thank you, My Sweet Imagination Friend. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, my dear friend. Lily, your support means the world to me. My eyes are tearing up a little bit right now. I had no intention of writing this prose poem today. I woke up and it wrote itself. And then you, and others…you say such kind things about my writing. Thank you, always, for believing in me. You’ve helped me believe in myself more than you can ever know. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Ivy- I love this piece! I am a bit speechless so please forgive me if I don’t articulate this well. To me it is a call for self-compassion and self-acceptance. Until we realize that, we are doomed to experience loneliness and vulnerability, even when we are not physically alone. 💓

    Liked by 1 person

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