half of me
stands in the doorway
lit and visible
hands open
as if the world is gentle
you see that part
the steady voice
the practiced smile
the way I hold myself
like I’ve already made peace
but the other half
lives behind the ribs
you can’t see
the rooms I keep locked
the storms that learned
to thunder without sound
the ache that hums
beneath calm skin
half of me
is sunlight on water
the other half
is the current
deep and pulling
strong enough
to carry entire histories
if you look close
you might notice
how my eyes hesitate
before they shine
how my laughter
sometimes arrives
a breath late
I am both
the surface
and the undertow
and loving me
means learning
to hold
what is offered in light
and what survives
in the dark
Tag Archives: life
Quick question
Hey everyone! Just a quick question: Has anyone ever gone to a WP writers meetup? I’ve been thinking how cool it would be if a group of us got together to hang out for a day or so! I’m sure it could be challenging for most, but I think the idea is so awesome! Okay, another side question: Have any of you ever been to a writers’/poetry retreat of any kind?
Let me know in the comments! I hope you all are having a wonderful day!
Much love,
Jenn ❤️
Fading
there’s a hollow
where your voice once lived
a cold space where warmth
used to fill the air
I search for your reflection
in the places we left behind
but it’s always fading
slipping through my fingers like sand
you were my breath
now you’re just
the wind that whispers
a distant sound I cannot touch
I thought love was a fire
but here I stand
alone in the ashes
the smoke still stinging my eyes
I tried to hold you
with every piece of me
but you were already slipping
before I even knew you were gone
now there’s nothing but a silence
that I can’t escape
no sound that can fill
the space your absence carved
it’s funny how we hold on
until the holding feels like drowning
until the heart learns to let go
even when it isn’t ready
to breathe without you
A letter to her
I think I would notice your eyes first
not because they are different
but because they still believe
in things I had to bury
to keep moving
you would stand there
with your questions unbroken
holding time like it hadn’t yet learned
how to take
and I
I would hesitate
not out of shame
but out of the quiet terror
of being seen
by someone who still expects me
to become everything
would I tell you
how the world softens you
by first teaching you where it hurts
or would I let you keep
your unspent light
your reckless hope
that hasn’t yet learned
the weight of gravity
maybe I would just sit beside you
no warnings
no apologies
and let the silence say
you were never wrong
for believing it could be beautiful
and I am still trying
to prove you right
* Just a letter to my younger self *
Only a moment
We are only here for a fleeting moment. Before we even realize it, our time is gone. So tell the people you love that you love them, truly, deeply, without holding back. Help someone today, even in a small way. Be kind. Be gentle. Be the reason someone feels seen, heard, or supported.
Laugh until your stomach hurts. Dream with your whole heart, even if it scares you. Smile, even when life feels heavy, because your light matters. Learn from every heartbreak, every mistake, and every triumph, and then let go of the past that no longer serves you.
There is no one else like you. Your story, your heart, your presence, this world is better because you exist. Own it. Celebrate it. Be proud of it.
Life is short. Too short to hold grudges, to hide your love, to shrink yourself. Live boldly. Love fiercely. Give freely. Laugh without shame. And in every breath, remember, your life, your love, your joy, your kindness, they all ripple farther than you know.
Sending all my love to you all. Let’s treasure this beautiful, fleeting moment together.
Jennifer ❤️
Pieces of her
she had to build herself
from pieces scattered like glass
edges sharp and jagged
cutting the hands
that tried to hold her
she learned to gather them
one by one
pressing cracks into patterns
turning breaks into bridges
pain into architecture
her reflection is a mosaic
not whole in the way
the world expects
but whole in the way she chose
stronger in the places
that once bled
beautiful in the places
that were broken
Some days
some days
the mind is a house
with flickering lights
rooms you avoid
because they echo too loudly
you smile in the doorway
tell others you’re fine
while the ceiling drips
old fears you never fixed
thoughts pace
like restless ghosts at 3 a.m.
rattling memories
that refuse to be ignored
you learn that strength
is not the armor you wear
but the calm you hold
when no one is watching
healing isn’t a sunrise
that sweeps away the night
it’s learning the dark has furniture
you bruise
you rest
you try again tomorrow
some nights
the darkness loosens its grip
not to vanish
just enough to let you breathe
you don’t defeat the quiet
you live with it
and that
somehow
is light
Footprints
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
Choosing hope (Audio)
I learned early that softness
was a liability
in a place where walls listened
and windows rattled with anger
you grew armor the way
other kids grew dreams
hope stayed hidden
folded small and tucked behind the ribs
growing up rugged
teaches you strange math
how love can subtract itself
how silence can weigh
more than shouting
you learn to read moods like the weather
to predict storms
from the way a door closes
childhood felt like a rumor
something bright you only saw
through passing windows
you learned how to keep breathing
in rooms that forgot to love you
and yet nothing forged
in fire comes out hollow
you carry a quiet authority
earned by endurance
your scars are proof you stayed alive
in a place that tried to make you vanish
you are not broken
you are carved by fire
heart still beating
skin still marked
and quietly
endlessly choosing hope
In 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
The Creative Chic 