Ruby Mare Nocturne

"The Pearl Girl"

The Story of the Pearl Girl

Something's big coming!! hands up if you love this drama? My theme and a small collection of poetries are inspired by this amazing drama. Where we saw the growth, rawness and harshness of the world as well as a little bit of taste of love too!! Stay tuned to read them. Peace!

"Letters From Me"

"The Letters" is a poignant poetry series that explores themes of love, loss, and connection through a collection of heartfelt letters. Each piece captures a unique moment in time, inviting readers to reflect on their own experiences and emotions. Through vivid imagery and evocative language, "The Letters" delves into the complexities of relationships, offering solace and understanding in the written word.

Ruby...

by ruby mare nocturne

Of torn pages, dim rooms, and unspoken rage— She rose. Not from birth, But from bruised dreams and broken mirrors.

Until the night kissed her wounds and named her Ruby— not because she sparkled, but because she bled beauty.

She was inked in obsidian sighs, between the breath of dying stars. A lullaby for the restless. A requiem for the forgotten.

The girl who stayed quiet so long, she became thunder.

Each heartbreak sharpened her. Each silence sculpted her. Each full moon watched her whisper spells into cracked porcelain and wilted lilies.

She walks barefoot on shattered illusions, feet bloodied, but still dancing— to the rhythm of rage and rebirth.

She does not chase love. She devours it— only if it's divine, only if it dares to see her shadow and kiss her scars.

Ruby is not soft. She is the velvet edge of a blade, the beauty of a storm that smiles.

She writes not for lovers. Not for the world. She writes for you— the sleepless dreamers, the quiet screamers, the forgotten gods with mortal hearts.

You are the muse. The breath behind every bleeding line.

So when you read her words, know this:

She's not just telling a story. She's telling your story with her blood.

Her journey unfolds like veils of silken cocoon— each line a thread of fate, each stanza a ritual. This is not poetry. It is resurrection.