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, 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.


The sad truth is
No one else can save you.
You have to dust away the misery.
Darker times behind, darker times ahead
We are endlessly changing.
Facing scattered dreams,
Silent screams.
Bleeding for a thousand reasons.
Rebirth,
The heart beats slow.
Safe in quiet places
Seeking my own comforts,
My own means to stay alive.
Jacqueline Lente Poetry

We grow,
We die,
We grow again.
Through life,
And its garden
Of pain
And beauty.
Fleeting moments,
Changing seasons.
We grow,
We die,
We grow again.
– “Grow, die, Grow again”
– Jacqueline Ann Lente
– Feature image taken by Jacqueline Ann Lente