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
Tag Archives: love
True beauty
For all my beautiful ladies here
You’re beautiful—not in the loud, borrowed ways the world often applauds, but in the kind that settles into a room and makes everything feel more honest. This beauty belongs to all of you. It lives in how you listen—fully, patiently—as if every voice matters. It’s in your laughter, unexpected and warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds you’ve learned how to carry.
Your beauty shows up in small, powerful moments: in the pauses before you speak, in the softness you protect without surrendering your strength, in the grace with which you move through ordinary days that demand more than they show. You don’t chase recognition, yet you are remarkable. Effortless. Grounded. Unmistakable.
You are beautiful in your kindness, in the way you leave people and places better than you found them. Beautiful in your flaws, too—the ones shaped by survival, growth, and truth. This is a beauty that doesn’t dim when the lights fade, because it was never created for the stage.
And maybe that’s the truest thing about your beauty: it lingers. In the lives you’ve touched. In the strength you pass on. In the quiet proof that resilience can be gentle, and power can be beautiful.
Stay beautiful, my lovely ladies. This world is much better with you ALL in it.
Jennifer ❤️🌻🌞♥️
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.
Regret
regret is a dim
unsteady blue
the kind that pools
beneath streetlights
after rain has already
forgotten its purpose
it lingers on fingertips
a stain you notice only
when reaching for something
that used to fit your hand
not quite night
not quite dawn
just that trembling
shade between a color
that never learned
how to let go
Checking in
Hey, my sweet friends! It’s easy to get caught up in the rush of daily life—work, errands, plans, notifications—but sometimes we forget to pause and just check in with ourselves. So, I’m asking: how are you feeling today? Really.
Are you energized, ready to take on the world, or do you feel a little worn out, needing a moment to breathe? Maybe you’re somewhere in between, riding the waves of a busy week or a quiet one.
Here’s your reminder that it’s okay to feel whatever you feel. There’s no right or wrong, no need to mask your emotions. Take a deep breath. Check in. Be honest with yourself. I know for me life has been rather busy lately, it’s been challenging to keep up and catch up. I’m working on it though!
And if you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear it—drop a comment, send a message, or even just sit with these words for a moment. Sometimes, simply naming our feelings is the first step toward understanding them.
Sending my love to anyone who may need just a little extra today
Jennifer ❤️
Scattered light
we are not meant to linger
in endless sunrises
nor chase infinity
through unyielding nights
our bodies crumble
our hours slip like sand
through impatient fingers
and yet
we live forever in the laughter
we leave behind
in the stories whispered
long after we’re gone
and in the way
someone remembers
the light we scattered
into the world
Happy Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving has a way of slowing life down just enough for us to notice the beauty in the little things—the laughter that drifts across the room, the comfort of a familiar dish, the quiet moments that remind us we’re not alone.
I’m especially grateful for the people who bring light into my life—those who check in, share a story, lend a hand, or simply show up in the small, steady ways that matter more than they know. Whether your table is full, your home is peaceful and quiet, or your celebration looks a bit different this year, I hope you feel surrounded by warmth, kindness, and a sense of belonging.
Thanksgiving isn’t about perfection; it’s about presence. It’s that soft moment when you look around and think, “This is enough. This is good.” And it truly is.
Wishing you a day filled with comfort, gratitude, and the simple joys that make your heart feel full.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Love,
Jennifer ❤️
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
Untamed
daydreams drift
like sunlight through water
soft
weightless
untamed
they blur the edges of reality
painting what could be
in colors the waking world forgets
for a moment
we live between breaths
where hope feels effortless
and everything feels possible
Ordinary
daydreaming is the art
of slipping quietly
through the cracks of the ordinary
a soft surrender
against the ticking clock
the mind drifts
painting sunlight
on impossible skies
letting clouds speak
in forgotten languages
somewhere between
breath and blur
the world loosens its grip
and for a moment
everything that could be
is almost real enough to touch
The Creative Chic 