Tag: jacquelinelentepoetry

  • We don’t see what’s waiting.

  • IN MY TRENCHES

    In my trenches–
    this haunted house
    eats me whole.

    Ghosts of memory
    wander.

    Whispers in the walls.

    My mind—
    a forbidden dungeon
    no one enters.


    Something inside
    won’t stay still.

    Dead eyes.

    On the floor again.

  • 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.

  • 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.