I often wonder
in moments
of untold stories
waiting to be read
how many words
will need to be written
until we find our way
back together
how many pages
must the heart turn
before the ink dries
on the distance between us
and our story
begins again
how many chapters
must time quietly unfold
before your name
finds its way
back into mine
and how many endings
must we survive
before we understand
we were always
the beginning
The Creative Chic
“How many pages must the heart turn before the ink dries…” 💙
Yeah, how many 💙
Such a beautiful poem by such a gifted writer. 🤗
So sweet. Thank you, Braden 🤗
You’re welcome! 🤗
you always end where you begin, and begin from where you’d once ended ❤
Yes, indeed
Beautiful poem
Thank you!
You’re welcome 🙂
😁✨💖💕🌹
Jenn… this is so beautiful. 🤍
You have such a gift for taking something as impossible to measure as time and making it feel tangible. Every line feels like hope refusing to give up, even after all the endings.
Thank you for sharing pieces of your heart like this. They always leave me feeling something, and that’s such a rare gift. Keep writing, my sweet friend. The world is better because you do. 🤍
Aww, what a lovely thing to say. You’re so damn sweet! I’ll do my best to never stop writing, not sure I ever could anyway!
What a gorgeous poem embracing the concept of our lives as stories. But what makes this so special…so beyond the mundane and into the realm of the inspired…is your acknowledgement of the unknown.
When we read a book, we can tell by the pages remaining…or the number of books in the series…how much remains of the story.
But in our lives, our relationships, and our loves…we don’t know the end. Or how many pages. Or how many sequels.
We just know that we never want it to end.
That’s the way I feel about your poem. And that’s the way I feel about love.
I never want to find the end.
So, Jenn, never stop writing this book, and maybe this love will never have an end.
Thank you so much for such a thoughtful and deeply moving comment.
You captured the exact heart of what I was trying to express: that terrifying, beautiful magic of not knowing how many pages we’re given, but choosing to love fiercely and write our stories anyway.
Your observation about how we read books versus how we live our lives added such a profound dimension to this piece. It’s a humbling reminder that the unknown isn’t something to fear, but the very thing that makes love so precious.
Thank you again for reading with such an open heart, and for encouraging me to keep this story going. I promise I won’t stop writing. Sending love to you ❤️