Tag: Emotion

  • BRIEF WARMTH, LONG ECHO.

    Just another season passing through 🖤

  • WATCHING IT CHANGE

    Hues of soft flame
    burning through the sky.

    Pink whispers.
    Orange bleeding through.

    Blues fade—
    clouds turn.

    Then
    midnight
    takes it all.

    And I stay
    to watch it
    become something else.

  • We don’t see what’s waiting.

  • between silence and survival.

    the night knows—
    and that’s enough.

  • 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.

     

  • FUEL

    Yesterday’s faults

    become tomorrow’s sorrows.

    In the dark corners of my mind

    I string stars like fairy lights.

    I take thunder in my chest

    and turn it to fuel—

    to light the fire within.

  • 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.

  • LOOK / SEARCH / YEARN


    LOOK FOR


    A horizon
    that doesn’t fade
    when you reach it.

    A purpose
    that survives the quiet.

    A reason
    not to burn it all down.

    Something that holds
    when you lean—
    And doesn’t give.

    SEARCH FOR


    A place
    where you don’t perform.

    A landing
    that doesn’t collapse.

    A room inside you
    that doesn’t echo.

    A truth
    that survives the storm—
    Not gentle,
    but still yours.
     
    YEARN FOR


    A home
    that doesn’t bruise.

    Warmth
    that doesn’t leave.

    Something
    that doesn’t shrink you
    or ask you to betray yourself.

    Yearn for the self
    that stops asking.

    The one that stands—
    Unflinching,
    unchosen by fear.

    The one that takes the throne
    without apology—
    After everything
    it bled to keep.

  • 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.

  • WEIGHT

    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.

  • Burning out, beautifully
    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry

  • ALL THE YEARS COLLIDED

  • STARGAZING

  • Artworks

    I want to know the truth of your soul,
    Your strength, your story,
    The fire that drives your heartbeat forward through the night.

    I’m not afraid of the monsters you carry—
    The rage born of old wounds, the scars,
    The hurt forged in your bones.

    I am no stranger to the dark underworld;
    My monsters, my oldest companions—
    Linger like background noise that refuses to die away.

    But we are not our monsters;
    We are what we create from the mess they leave behind.


    Show me the artworks of your life.

    Create some magic with me.

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