My body learned your rhythm
before my mind could understand it.
I felt you
where silence never goes—
My heart
softened into your hands
without asking.
Somewhere
between breaths,
I became yours
without noticing when it happened.
My body learned your rhythm
before my mind could understand it.
I felt you
where silence never goes—
My heart
softened into your hands
without asking.
Somewhere
between breaths,
I became yours
without noticing when it happened.
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.
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.
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.

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, karma
will swallow them whole.
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.

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