Footprints

*Picture is my own*

I leave my footprints 
where the water forgets
letting the tide erase
what I can’t carry home
the wind learns my name 
and gives it back to me in pieces
a laugh
a promise
the space between your words

the horizon keeps our secrets
wide enough to hold 
what we never finished saying

even the night knows you
the way the stars lean closer
as if listening
I gather their light like fragments of you
and press them to my chest
proof that absence can still glow

so I stay until the sky 
exhales its last color
until my heart remembers 
its own rhythm again
and when I leave
I take nothing
but the quiet certainty
that love
real love
never learns how to leave

Unravel (Audio)

I don’t know the shape of your hands
the weight of your body
or the sound of your laugh
but I feel the pull of you as if
we’ve been orbiting each other for lifetimes

I imagine tracing the line of your jaw
finding the hollow behind your ear
the curve of your neck
and I ache to learn the language
of your skin before I even touch it

I want to memorize the heat
you hide in your breath
to discover the spaces
that make you shiver
to know the secret ways
you let yourself unravel

even apart
I taste you in thought
in the brush of air across my skin
that I pretend is yours
and I imagine
the first moment we collide
knowing that everything
I’ve felt in waiting
is just a prelude

Her eyes

her dark eyes carry the weight 
of stories never told aloud
they are deep wells of knowing
reflecting both the tenderness 
she gives freely
and the ache she keeps hidden 
they hold the hush
of midnight rooms 
and the echo of emotions 
that learned to survive
without language 
in them lives a patience 
shaped by longing
a softness that’s guarded 
by storms already weathered 
her eyes do not ask
to be understood 
they ask to be felt
and once they are they linger
long after the moment has passed


Saturday reminder

* Picture is my own *

Just a little reminder, in case you need it today: you matter.

Your presence, your voice, your way of moving through the world, it all counts more than you probably realize. You are valued not for how much you produce, or how perfectly you show up, but simply because you exist. Because you care. Because you try. Because you’re here.

If you’re feeling unseen, overwhelmed, or quietly holding more than you let on, know this: you are loved in ways you may never fully measure. Sometimes love looks loud and obvious. Sometimes it’s quiet, someone thinking of you, rooting for you, hoping you’re okay.

So take this as permission to breathe a little deeper today. To be softer with yourself. To remember that you don’t have to earn belonging, you already have it.

I’m glad you’re here. Truly. ❤️

💋 Jennifer 🌻

Happy New Year

As I stand on the edge of this brand-new year, I find myself overwhelmed by a beautiful sense of possibility. Looking back on 2025, I’m filled with so much gratitude for the moments that challenged me, the laughter that kept me going, and the quiet growth that happened when I wasn’t even looking. Whether my year felt like a whirlwind of excitement or a steady, quiet climb, I’m taking a moment to be proud of simply making it here, and I hope you are doing the same.

As I step into 2026, my wish for both of us is simple: I hope our days are filled with more “real” moments and fewer “busy” ones. I want to find the courage to chase the things that make my heart beat a little faster, the patience to be kind to myself on the hard days, and the joy that comes from the smallest, simplest things. To me, this new year isn’t about “fixing” who I am; it’s about celebrating the person I’ve become and embracing the adventures that haven’t even started yet.

Thank you for being such a special part of my journey. I’m so excited to share this next chapter with you. Here’s to a year of health, happiness, and beautiful new beginnings for us all.

Happy New Year!

Much love,
Jennifer ❤️


I’m right here

The holidays are supposed to sparkle. They’re wrapped in lights and music and expectations that say this should be the happiest time of the year. But for so many people, this season feels heavier instead of brighter.

Grief gets louder. Loneliness settles in. Old memories knock when you’re already tired. Mental health doesn’t take a holiday break just because the calendar says it’s time to celebrate.

If this season feels harder for you, I want you to know something simple and true: I’m here if you need me.

I’m here on the days when getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment.
I’m here when the silence is too loud or the noise is too much. I’m here when you don’t have the words, or when you have too many and don’t know where to put them.

You don’t have to explain why you’re struggling. You don’t have to compare your pain to anyone else’s. And you definitely don’t have to pretend you’re okay just to make others more comfortable.

Sometimes being “here” looks like a conversation. Sometimes it looks like sitting quietly beside someone. Sometimes it’s a text that just says, “I’m thinking of you.”

And if you’re the one reading this thinking, I wish someone would say that to me this is me saying it. You matter. Your feelings matter. Your presence in this world matters, even on days when it doesn’t feel like it.

The holidays can amplify everything we try to tuck away the rest of the year. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

So if you need a safe place to land, I’m here. If you need someone to listen, I’m here. If all you can do today is survive, that is more than enough and I’m still here.

You don’t have to carry this season alone. Email me, text me, call me. If you need that information, head over to my about me page 🤍

Love,
Jennifer ❤️

Absence

I miss you in the quiet moments
when the world slows
just enough
for your absence to echo
I miss your laugh
tucked between my thoughts
your voice folded into the silence
like a secret waiting to be told
the days stretch long
without your light
and even the sun
seems unsure of where to shine
but I carry your memory
like a song I hum
without meaning to
soft and familiar
aching and true

Human (audio)

I carry the people I’ve loved like small constellations under my skin, some still burning, some already gone dark, yet all of them shaping how I walk through night.

There are mornings when grief doesn’t knock. It simply sits beside me, drinks my coffee, and reminds me that love was never meant to be light.

I have learned that the heart is not a place of safety. It is a place of weather. Storms arrive without permission, and sometimes the bravest thing is to stand still and let the storms pass through you.

If you listen closely, you can hear the past breathing in old songs, in the way certain names still soften your voice, in the silence that follows when you almost say I miss you out loud.

But even here, especially here, there is a quiet miracle happening.

Because every day you wake up with tenderness intact. You choose not to turn to stone. You keep your hands open in a world that has proven it can take everything.

And that, that is not weakness. That is devotion to being human all the way through.




Unpromised

we move through hours 
that were never promised
soft tenants of a world 
that keeps no names
each breath is an ember of light
slipped into our unready hands
dawn on loan, shadows rented
still we press our footsteps into dust
still we dare to lift our fragile flame
as if the dark were negotiable
as if borrowed time 
were ours to spend
and if the sun won’t one day
ask for everything back