Borrowed Faces (Audio)

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4

some mornings
I fasten a face to my own
before the mirror has finished
telling the truth

one for kindness
that swallows its own hunger

one for certainty
stitched together
from borrowed words

one for laughter
light enough
to keep questions
from settling on my shoulders

I wear them
because the world
is full of bright rooms
where vulnerability echoes louder
than confidence ever does

by noon
I have forgotten
which smile belongs to survival
and which one
was born with me

the masks are patient things
they learn the shape of our breath
they memorize our silences
they become so fluent
in our names
that even our reflections
hesitate

still there are moments

rain on an empty street
a hand that does not ask me
to be anything
the long forgiving conversation
between dusk and the first star

in those moments
the straps loosen
the borrowed faces
slide quietly to the floor
without accusation

underneath
is not perfection

only skin
scarred by every season
it refused to stop feeling

only eyes
still searching for wonder
after years of pretending
they had already found it

perhaps that is all
a human life has ever asked
not to live without masks
for sometimes they are shelter

sometimes armor
sometimes the bridge
across impossible days

but to remember
they are not our bones

and when night arrives
to set them beside the bed
like shoes that carried us home
so that sleep
may recognize our true face
and morning
if it is gentle
may find us
with nothing left to hide
except the light
we have mistaken
for weakness

Behind my eyes

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11

I keep the rain
behind my eyes
a storm with no thunder
only the quiet ache
of clouds too heavy to leave
my breath learns
the shape of silence
holding each crack together
like fragile glass
afraid of becoming light
the tears wait
patient as tides
pressing gently
against the shoreline
asking for nothing
but a moment to exist
instead
I swallow oceans
wear steady hands
and answer the world
with a voice
that almost doesn’t fade

still
somewhere beneath it all
the river remembers its name
and one day
it will find its way home


Your love

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25

your love
arrives like the ocean
a rhythm older than memory
moving through me
in endless waves
sometimes it brushes the shore
with quiet hands
leaving traces of light
on everything it touches
sometimes it rises
deep and untamed
filling every corner of my heart
with its tide
I stand at its edge
listening
and with every return
it teaches me
how beautiful it is
to be carried


Hues

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15

*Picture is my own*

you make me see
a thousand colors
not just the ones
the sky spills at dusk
but the kind that live in things unspoken
in the pause before a reply
in the space where distance used to sit
you teach light new ways to exist

there are hues 
I never knew had names
like the blue
between breath and silence
where thoughts hover 
just before they become words
or the gold
that vibrates in your laughter
warm enough to soften time itself
you touch the gray in me
like it was never meant to stay stone
it loosens
becomes lavender in slow unraveling
then deepens
burns into crimson
then spills further still
into colors I don’t have language for yet
even the dullest corners of me
start remembering how to burn

and the shadows
the ones I used to mistake for endings
learn they can shift
that they are not absent but waiting
and they begin to shimmer
like they’ve been holding light
the whole time
when you’re near


					


		
	


				
					


	

		
Facade


				

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in shadows cast
by a broken facade
we once existed 
in this old home
stained glass 
from hushed secrets
the lies fell one by one
on the ledge 
a breath away from freedom
these empty walls
now echo with echos
absorbing words of anger
stale smoke now lingers
through every room
screaming to be heard
but no one there to listen

and somewhere inside
that fragmented place
a part of her is still there
hidden in memories

					


		
	


				
					


	

		
Friday reminder


				

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Don’t start your day carrying the broken pieces of yesterday.

The mistakes, disappointments, and hurts that followed you to bed do not deserve a permanent place at your breakfast table. Every morning arrives with a quiet invitation to begin again, to loosen your grip on what cannot be changed and make room for what still can.

Yesterday has already spoken. Let it rest.

Today is a blank page waiting for your footsteps, your choices, and your courage. Walk into it with open hands, not clenched fists full of old pain.

Some things are meant to stay behind so you can move forward.

Have a wonderful day, friends. I hope each of you feels loved, valued, and appreciated, not just for what you do, but for who you are.

Love,
Jennifer ❤️ 

					


		
	


				
					


	

		
Absence


				

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some nights
I feel like a footnote in a story 
too vast to remember me
a brief flicker of consciousness
caught between ancient stars
and the silence that will outlive them
the world carries on 
with its indifferent cadence 
and I wonder if my absence 
would leave even the smallest crease 
in the fabric of things
I shrink beneath the weight of galaxies
of centuries
of all that existed before me 
and all that will remain
when my name has dissolved into dust

and still I stand here
a fragile thing aching to matter 
in a universe that never promised 
I would



					


		
	


				
					


	

		
Happy Monday


				

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Happy Monday!

Life rarely moves in a straight line. I know mine lately has been a bit of a rollercoaster. Some weeks bring progress, others bring patience. Both have value. Growth often happens in the small choices we make each day and in the moments when we keep going even when the path isn’t clear. 

As this week unfolds, I hope you find time to notice the beauty around you, trust your own voice, and make space for whatever is waiting to be expressed, on the page and in life.

Wishing you a meaningful Monday, a week filled with inspiration and love that fills not only your heart but your entire being. And remember, to be kind to one another. Our time here is so short, and in the end, most things won’t matter, but kindness and love will. 


All my love,
Jennifer ❤️



					


		
	


				
					


	

		
Gravity


				

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before the first breath 
of the cosmos
we were an unspoken syntax
tangled in the black
velvet throat of the void
there was no calendar 
to bleed us dry
no horizon to split the dark 
into yesterday and tomorrow
we existed in the unmeasured space
between a sigh and the spark
a quiet architecture of gravity
waiting for a universe to inhabit
you were silence
and I was listening
we did not need light 
to find each other
we were already the warmth
that the cold
unborn stars
would later try to mimic

					


		
	


				
					


	

		
Sun-kissed


				

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the sun found her slowly
as she lay beneath the open sky
spilling gold along the length 
of her bare arms
resting in the delicate hollow 
of her throat
sliding over her skin 
as though it had all afternoon
and nowhere else to be
she turned her face 
toward the warmth
eyes half-closed
and light gathered on her like honey
soft 
luminous
impossible not to notice
every small shift 
caught another shimmer
a quiet fire awakening 
beneath the surface
while the breeze 
wandered over her
jealous of the places 
the sunlight lingered

and there she remained
wrapped in nothing 
but summer and radiance
the day unfolding 
around her body
the sun tracing its slow devotion
across the landscape of her skin