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

As thunder cracks and the heavens break
We are pulled back into each other’s storm,
Drawn by a tether neither of us can name.
Our cords run deep.
We search for the centre calm – the fragile quiet buried beneath all this noise.
For the home of belonging in each other’s heart.
Chaos surrounds us, chaos tests us,
Thunder pressing its questions hard against our ribs.
Yet in the wreckage, we reach for each other first.
Searching, finding each other
In the stars,
In the dark of the night,
In the rain and the cold,
And in the last flicker of the flame.
Always returning, always pulled back in.
Hold my hand and let it rain,
You are mine –
through every storm,
in every lifetime that finds us again.


I aimed for red—
sunset bleeding orange and fire,
a perfect contrast.
Then it changed.
Green.
I almost didn’t take the shot.
But I did.
And now I see more than I planned—
not colour,
but a path.
A horizon waiting.
We spend so long waiting for the perfect red,
the perfect moment,
the perfect sign—
but life doesn’t wait.
It turns green.
And every green light
leads to the horizon.
So go.


Let them be who they pretend to be,
and let them fall.
Leave them to their misery,
their hollow claims and borrowed skin.
Negativity, truth, and karma
will swallow them whole.
For they are their own demon,
their own slow demise.
True colours fracture through the mask,
the costume stained beyond repair.
They hate the mirror of their own heart,
so they hide inside a stranger’s face.


Affogato afternoons, where the day softens and the heart sharpens.
I sip the sweetness melting into the bitter, hoping it teaches me something honest.
I remember I’m allowed to slow down.
Some afternoons are a truce.
Others are a battlefield,
Where I sit across from myself, letting the espresso burn through the fog I thought I was done fighting.
But here – in this melting moment – I let it all blur.
The past I’m trying to outgrow, the future I’m not ready for, the voices that rise like steam and disappear just as fast.
Because in affogato afternoons, I learn the same truth over and over:
Even the bitter can soften. Even the frozen can give. And sometimes, the only way forward is to let yourself melt just enough to begin again.


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

Find reasons to stay and stay relentless.
Rest is still progress and rebirth is a journey.
You will find your way.
JACQUELINE LENTE POETRY