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
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
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
there are storms inside me
that no forecast could name
thunder lives beneath my ribs
lightning splits old wounds open
and whole oceans
rise behind my eyes
some days I am all turbulence
all dark skies and restless wind
the rain never seems to finish
it only finds new ways to fall
flooding the places I thought
had already drowned
and I carry the wreckage quietly
as if no one can hear
the storm still raging within me
We all carry parts of ourselves that we keep hidden: fears, insecurities, grief, anger, loneliness, or memories we rarely speak about. Over time, we learn how to present the version of ourselves that feels safest: the strong version, the successful version, the easy-to-love version. Meanwhile, the heavier truths stay tucked away beneath the surface.
But the parts we hide never truly disappear. They show up in the way we protect ourselves, in the walls we build, and in the quiet moments when we feel disconnected from who we really are. Often, the traits we judge most harshly in ourselves began as forms of survival.
The truth is, being human means carrying contradictions. We can be confident and insecure, hopeful and afraid, healing and hurting all at once. No one is as put together as they seem.
Healing is not about becoming perfect or erasing the messy parts of ourselves. It is about learning to face them with honesty and compassion instead of shame. Because when we stop treating our hidden parts like enemies, we begin to feel whole again.
And maybe that is what connection really is: realizing that everyone else is hiding something too. We are all perfectly imperfect, and you know what? That’s good enough.
Lots of love,
Jennifer ❤️
I know life feels heavy right now. It feels like it will never make sense, like the sadness and fear are all you will ever know. You will lose people you love, feel betrayal, and face pain so deep it feels like it might swallow you whole. Some nights, you will cry until you can’t see, and some days you will want to disappear. That is real, and it is okay to feel it all. You are allowed to hurt. You are allowed to break.
The grief you feel, the anger, the confusion, they do not mean you are weak. They mean you are alive, that you are trying to survive a world that can be cruel and confusing. The scars you carry, both seen and unseen, will shape you, but they will not define all of who you are. You will learn to carry them with courage, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.
There will also be moments that take your breath away with happiness. Laughter that makes your chest ache, small victories that remind you life can be beautiful, even in the middle of the pain. Hold onto these moments. They will save you when nothing else can. Happiness and grief will exist side by side, and you will learn that both are necessary to feel life fully.
You will also find love. Not the kind of love that shows up perfectly or easily, but the kind that sees all your scars, all your fears, and still chooses you. It will not erase your past pain, but it will remind you that connection, intimacy, and trust are worth the risk. That love will make your heart ache in a new way, full of joy and tenderness, and it will teach you that even after everything, you are still capable of opening yourself to someone else.
Do not push away your sadness, and do not apologize for it. Cry. Scream. Sit in the silence. Let yourself grieve. Let yourself feel love, joy, hope, even when the world feels heavy. You will survive. You will grow stronger than you can imagine. You will find people who care, people who see you, and moments that remind you that you are worthy of love.
Love yourself fiercely. Protect your heart, but don’t shut it completely. You are enough, even when it hurts to believe it. You are worthy, even in your brokenness. You are whole, even while carrying pieces of grief.
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
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 ❤️
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
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 *
The Creative Chic 