Bring me back from the dead—
pull me under
with the weight of your sins.
I’ll tend to your wounds
and carry your name
long after—
it breaks me.


You smell like rain and I want to be a part of your storm.
Drown me in your gaze.
Rearrange my mind.
Hold me close,
Skin to skin.
Keep me warm from the cold of the outside world
And the world inside my head.
Our demons may be different,
But we wear matching wounds.
Tangled bones and a map of scars.
Just trying to find some guidance home.
– “Two Strangers”
Jacqueline Lente Poetry

We grow,
We die,
We grow again.
Through life,
And its garden
Of pain
And beauty.
Fleeting moments,
Changing seasons.
We grow,
We die,
We grow again.
– “Grow, die, Grow again”
– Jacqueline Ann Lente
– Feature image taken by Jacqueline Ann Lente