Where it remains

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*Picture is my own*

you are the sunrise
on the beach
and every moment after

a low vibration across the tide
a seam of faint amber
torn along the dark lip
of the horizon
slowly bleeding
peach and crushed salt
into the cold gray

the water catches you first
rippling in thin
liquid sheets of gold
that wash over my feet
warm before the air
even remembers how to be warm
the sky unspools itself above us
stretching from violet
into a vast
breathless blue

and then the sun
clears the water
full and unshielded
and the world begins to move

you are the first light
but you are also
the quiet heat that follows
the sand growing warm
between my toes by noon
the steady midday glare
on the deep water
the long amber shadows
stretching across
the dunes at dusk
and the soft lingering tide
that hums in the dark
long after the sun goes down

I do not just watch you arrive
you leave something
of yourself in the world
and somehow
I am where it remains


Without me

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if tomorrow starts without me

let the morning find you gently
let the sunlight fall across
your face and remind you
that you were once deeply loved
by someone who saw the whole sky
when she looked at you

don’t search for me
in empty spaces
or count the hours
that suddenly feel too quiet
instead
find me in the little things

in the song
that catches you off guard
in the warmth
of coffee between your hands
in the softness of a sunset
you wish I could see

and if your heart aches
let it
love leaves fingerprints
on everything it touches

but please
don’t let my absence
be the ending of your story

keep living
keep laughing
keep becoming
everything I always believed
you could be

because if tomorrow
starts without me
I hope you understand
I was never meant
to be the end of your world

I was simply grateful
to have been
a beautiful part of it

16 Years

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Sixteen years ago, I clicked “Publish” for the very first time on this blog.

I didn’t have any big plans; I just had a digital blank page, a quiet need to translate what I was feeling into words, and a handful of poems I was brave enough to set free into the world. Sixteen years later, this little corner of WordPress has become the steady witness to my life.

When I first started writing here, I used line breaks and stanzas to figure out who I was. Poetry became the lens through which I processed everything: the sharp edges of heartbreak, the quiet magic of ordinary Saturday mornings, the grief of letting things go, and the gentle beauty of starting over. Over time, the space evolved. I moved from guarded, highly structured verses posted late at night to open-hearted, inspiring thoughts, learning to share not just the art, but the unpolished human behind it.

What I never expected when I began was the incredible community that would gather here. Along the way, this blog gave me some of the most profound, beautiful friendships of my life. People across oceans and time zones became confidants, creative soulmates, and constant sources of warmth. We met in the comment sections, exchanged long emails, shared our own stanzas, and held space for each other through life’s biggest moments. Sharing vulnerability online can feel scary, but the friends who walked through the door this blog opened made every single risk worth taking.

There is something deeply beautiful about keeping a personal blog for nearly two decades. It teaches you that slow creation still matters. It reminds you that writing isn’t about chasing viral metrics; it’s about genuine connection. It’s about that one message from a friend saying, “I felt this exact same way, but I didn’t have the words for it until now.”

If you’ve been here since the early days, thank you for growing with me. If you’re one of the dear friends I’ve met through these pages, thank you for sticking by my side. And if you just stumbled upon this space, welcome; I’m so glad you found your way here. Thank you for reading my poetry, for holding space for my heart, and for proving that sharing vulnerable things on the internet can lead to lifelong connection.

Here’s to the next chapter, the next stanza, and the next blank page.

All my love,
Jennifer

Between the lines

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you are the only one
who knows how to unfold me
without tearing the pages

you find the places
I have kept carefully creased
the corners I tucked away
from everyone else

you learn me slowly
with fingertips that never rush
finding the language
beneath my silence

you know where I am soft
where I am guarded
where years have taught me
to close myself tightly

and somehow
with you
I don’t have to hide
between the lines

you unfold me
until there is nothing left
but the truth of me
in your hands

Still water

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you hold them carefully
the way a library guards 
its late-night quiet
iris pulled tight around a dark
unwritten center

I look
and the room tilts

there is a city under your lashes
wet asphalt reflecting traffic lights 
that blinked out twenty plus years ago
there is a boy standing on a sea wall
looking down at his watch
that never leaves his wrist
learning how silence feels 
when it fills a room

a million little ghosts
wearing the clothes you used to wear
living in the spaces between your blinks

I see the map of every turn you took
and the quiet side streets 
you wanted to walk but didn’t
triumphs no one clapped for
a hard word held back
a morning you chose 
to pull the curtains open anyway
heartbreaks that never bled out loud
just turned to salt and settled 
at the bottom of your throat

you blink
and the light shifts
a chapter closes 
another page turns 
over in the dark

you ask me what I’m looking at
and I want to tell you
I am standing at the edge 
of an entire ocean
watching the tide bring in everything
you thought you had forgotten


Everything unsaid

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there is a heavy geometry to silence
a physics of all the sentences
we swallowed to keep the peace
they settle in the marrow
dense as lead
turning quiet rooms
into glass jars
a whole geography 
lives in the throat
unsaid apologies
the truth that arrived 
five minutes too late
the sparks 
that could have lit the path
or burned it all down
we carry them 
through ordinary days
their anchor-weight 
tethered to our ribs
our lungs adapting 
to the smaller room inside us
learning the art of moving forward
under a sky we built from silence

but how free we would be
if we let go of the unsaid


Everywhere you are

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your atoms are the essence
of every scattered dandelion seed
I have ever blown into the wind

I want you alive
in every strange corner
of the world
in the warmth
that settles against my skin
on summer afternoons
in the gold
that spills across the grass
just before evening
in the tiny white parachutes
lifting from a dandelion
when I breathe against them
and watch them disappear

because maybe
they aren’t disappearing
maybe they’re carrying you
your atoms are everywhere I look
threaded through the flowers
sleeping beneath the soil
floating through the air
between my fingers

and maybe mine
are somewhere inside you too
maybe when you laugh
some part of me is already there
a molecule of my existence
moving through your lungs
becoming breath
becoming warmth
becoming you

I like thinking
that we’re not as separate
as we pretend to be
that the space between us
is only an illusion
made by distance
and skin
because everything is borrowed
from everything else
the stars gave us
the elements in our bones
the earth gave us
the minerals in our blood
the wind carries
pieces of flowers
from one field into another
and somehow
out of all the infinite ways
the universe
could have arranged itself
it made you
it made me

so I blow the dandelion
and watch its seeds rise
not as wishes
but as little pieces
of the same universe
that made you

Her favorite color is blue

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her favorite color is blue

maybe because the sky
has always known
how to hold something beautiful
without ever asking it to stay
she looks up and there it is
that endless shade above her
the same blue that somehow
makes her think of him
and wonder
if he sees the same shade

maybe that is why
she loves the ocean too
not just for the way it moves
or how the waves
keep reaching the shore
even after being pulled away
but because
somewhere inside all that blue
she can still feel him
the ocean reminds her
that some things can be far away
and still feel close

blue lives in the little things now
the quiet of Saturday morning
the late night dreams
the confessions shared
in the moments
that seem so ordinary

and somehow in everything
he is the first person she thinks of

blue is the color of almost
almost touching
almost saying what they felt
almost closing the distance
and maybe that’s why
she never stopped loving it
because blue doesn’t remind her
of something she lost
it reminds her
of someone she loves
of the way certain colors
can carry certain feelings
of how one shade
can make an ordinary moment
feel a little more like him

so when someone asks
why blue is her favorite color
she smiles and says
i’ve always loved blue
and leaves out the part where
blue was never just a color
it was the sky
that made her think of him
the ocean that somehow
feels a little more beautiful
because it reminds her of him
the quiet color
that found its way into her heart
long before she realized why

and maybe that’s all blue has to be
a color she loves
a feeling she can’t quite explain
and a little reminder
of him
wherever she finds it



Endless poetry

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your love does not fit
into neat stanzas
it refuses the cage
of a rigid rhyme scheme
it is the sudden
breathtaking metaphor
stumbled upon in the dark
the kind that makes the chest ache
with a quiet undeniable truth

you are the cadence
of a late-night thought
the deliberate pause
between heartbeats
where everything unsaid
finds its perfect resonant weight
I do not need
to count the syllables
of your laughter
or measure the meter
of your breath against mine
like the best lines ever written
you simply exist
raw
untamed
and beautifully alive

we are a living draft
written in the margins
of ordinary days
turning the mundane
into something sacred
no rules
no boundaries
just the effortless poetry

Read me

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read me
the way a poem is written
without hurry
without trying to force beauty
where it already exists

learn the pauses
as carefully as the words
let silence have its own language
and let every touch arrive
like a line that knows
exactly where it belongs
leave pieces of yourself
between the verses
and I’ll leave pieces of myself
between the spaces

and when morning finds us
there will be no final stanza
only two hearts
still reading each other
as though love
was never meant to end
only to be written
again and again