Tag: Love

  • 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.

     

  • 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.

  • 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
  • Lost in Ruin.

  • 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.

  • Thunder

    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.

  • Nothing Leaves Clean

    Nothing Leaves Clean

    Fallen tears,
    coffee stains.


    Sunlight
    cracks through the window—
    soft,
    but unforgiving.


    Heaven is a state of mind.
    Hell lives in the heart.


    And letting go
    never leaves clean.

  • 🚦 Green Light ðŸš¦

    🚦 Green Light ðŸš¦


    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.

  • Untitled post 856

    Love survives us,
    even when nothing else does.
    In all this madness,
    your hands still find me.
    We stay—
    even when the world doesn’t.

  • Untitled post 898

    I am thunder, I am storm.
    Bones of mountain, skin of sea.
    A field full of roses and unfinished stories entertwining in the quiet in between.

  • Affogato Afternoons

    Affogato Afternoons

    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.

  • Untitled post 857

    The earth held me when no one else did.
    I remembered myself in the space between the stars —
    in that breathless silence where the broken pieces finally settled.
    Somewhere between gravity and the void, I became whole again.

  • Untitled post 879

    She loves coffee and rain, the auburn horizon.


    She loves dreaming of naps by the Mediterranean, of being sea-soaked and salt-stained under summers golden veins.