Tag: anxiety

  • THE WRATH OF THE BROKEN

    I carried the wrath of the broken.

    Or maybe—

    It carried me.

     

    Are we broken for the better,

    Or just addicted to the dark?

     

    A rose in the mud.

    Wrong side of midnight.

    Nothing grows here—

    It survives.

     

    Shadows of old friends

    Linger longer than they should.

     

    Laughter echoes—

    Warped now,

    Still sharp enough to cut.

     

    There is a stillness

    Between breaths.

     

    Not peace—

    Just pause.

     

    We reach for it anyway,

    Mistaking silence

    For healing.

     

    Trapped in the quiet unravelling,

    We miss the tremors

    Of collapse.

     

    No impact.

    No warning.

     

    Just the slow, sinking truth—

     

    We were never fighting anything else.

     

    We became

    The enemy

    We swore we’d never face.

     

  • ON MY LAST BREATH

    On my last breath,
    I begged the night for a saviour—
    but the darkness stayed quiet.
    No one came.


    The cold laid the truth bare:
    in the chaos, in the ruins,
    no one is coming
    to pull you from your wreckage.


    Your salvation is yours.


    You save yourself—
    or don’t rise.

  • REVIVAL

    Regrowth is not gentle.
    I died at midnight—

    A slow bleed,
    crying spells,
    fractures beneath the surface.

    Learning to grow
    in the soil of last year’s failures—
    they are lessons,
    not a death sentence.

    I shed the stories that kept me small,
    shut the doors that fed the dark.
    I make peace with sunlight,
    and the quiet pull of moonlit nights.

    I embrace the changes—

    soft,
    loud,
    necessary.

    I hold the tender moments.

    I love—despite the madness.

    Revival.

  • You can’t outrun what lives in your bones
    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry

  • STARGAZING

  • My tears remain the same, but I will never be that me again.

  • Nothing Leaves Clean

    Nothing Leaves Clean

    Fallen tears,
    coffee stains.


    Sunlight
    cracks through the window—
    soft,
    but unforgiving.


    Heaven is a state of mind.
    Hell lives in the heart.


    And letting go
    never leaves clean.

  • Untitled post 943

    For a moment we are whole, delusions of the young.
    We don’t realise the ocean of black that awaits our older souls.

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    Tra fiori selvatici e vino, I toast the ghosts that never learned to leave me.

    I tear the petals, I drain the bottle, I dare the night to swallow me whole.

    I bloom where I burn.

  • Harvest From The Loss

    Harvest From The Loss

    I thought it would destroy me but I harvested from the loss.

    Release, under a crimson red sky.

    I craved crisp air for my lungs. I willed my cold dead heart back to life.

    Not determined to live under the damage done, determined to rise up from it and rebuild again.

    JACQUELINE LENTE POETRY

  • Two Strangers Part Two

    Two Strangers Part Two

    Two Strangers met
    And accidentally fell in as more than lovers

    We had different demons but matching wounds,
    And sad past tales to tell

    Two broken souls
    Trying to find some guidance home within each other

    Sadly,
    The echos of fear, ego, and past trauma were too great
    Destruction and self-sabotage got in the way
    We became lost

    From drowning in your gaze
    Skin to skin
    To drowning in your absence

    Another scar to add to the map
    Out in the cold again
    At war with my head again

    Two Strangers met
    And fell in as more than lovers
    But Love is war
    Life is chaos
    And two lovers became two strangers again.

    – Two Strangers Part Two

    JACQUELINE LENTE POETRY

  • Untitled post 786

    The sad truth is
    No one else can save you.

    You have to dust away the misery.

    Darker times behind, darker times ahead
    We are endlessly changing.

    Facing scattered dreams,
    Silent screams.

    Bleeding for a thousand reasons.

    Rebirth,
    The heart beats slow.

    Safe in quiet places
    Seeking my own comforts,
    My own means to stay alive.

    Jacqueline Lente Poetry

  • Untitled post 783

    I’ve vanished in the silence.
    Buried everything in boxes, in the attic of my mind.

    Creaking thoughts
    Always trying to escape.

    My heart,
    A garden of lost things
    And empty spaces.

    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry
    – http://www.jacquelineannlente.wordpress.com

  • Untitled post 781

    Creaking skeletal trees.
    Wolves with kerosene eyes.

    Ghosts crying in the walls
    While winter slowly creeps behind me.

    This internal battle is on the edge of dying dreams.

    Life plays the dark symphony
    The nights grow even longer, draped in the veils of wistful sorrow,
    And a small dying hope for better days.

    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry
    – http://www.jacquelineannlente.wordpress.com