Tag: EmotionalExpression

  • Daffodils and daisies
    were meant to bloom—

    nothing did.

    abandoned.

    what remains?

  • BUILT IN RUIN

    Holding roses,
    bleeding out on the floor—

    the witching hour waits,
    voices at the door.

    my love,
    built in ruin,

    wounded.

    there’s blood in the water—

    and still
    I ruin more.

  • between silence and survival.

    the night knows—
    and that’s enough.

  • MY GRIEF TAUGHT ME DISCIPLINE

    My grief taught me discipline.

    Not the clean, motivational kind—
    the quiet, brutal kind.
    that holds you together
    when everything you love comes undone.

    The discipline of surviving
    what should have broken you.

    Grief carved the truth in front of me—
    the pause before collapse.
    Tears taught me
    what words never could.

    My peace arrived—
    honest, not gentle.

    Now I honour the scars that taught me—
    the ones that closed without permission,
    that carried wisdom into my skin
    and proved I was worth healing.

    I let go of what no longer serves me.
    I stand in the truth of my heart
    and the marrow of my soul.

  • NOTHING LEAVES CLEAN

    I learned early—
    nothing leaves clean.

    Not grief.
    Not love.
    Not the versions of you
    you had to bury to survive.

    Fallen tears.
    Coffee stains.

    Sunlight
    cracks through the window—
    soft,
    but unforgiving.

    Heaven—
    a state of mind.
    Hell
    lives deep in the heart.

    Smoke without fire.
    Footsteps that don’t return.
    And something in you
    still counting the dead. 

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • UNEARTHED

    Deep with rage
    the soul rots between the bones.

    Voices fade.
    Words disappear.

    Sleep comes—
    never gently.

    Standing alone in the forest,
    the ground underneath
    swallowing me whole.

    I escape morning
    After night
    has unearthed my bones. 

  • 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.

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

  • Burning out, beautifully
    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry
  • Lost in Ruin.

  • ALL THE YEARS COLLIDED