Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

New Poetry Collection: Sad Girl’s Love Song

Hola amigos,

You can now download and stream my brand new audio poetry collection Sad Girl’s Love Song.


J x


Blanket Boy

Kiss, You Cowards!

Maybe He’ll Come Back

Staying After School

Sad Girl’s Love Song


A Moonlit Kiss in The West End


Download the audio collection here


Blanket Boy

You look at me,
like you know where I’ve been,
but you don’t mind,
as long as I’m home and dry,
by the time you wake up.

It’s not like I wanted to be out so late,
but I find myself,
fucking up,
facing up to not being
who I thought I was,
who I could have been,
you don’t mind,
as long as it’s your shoulders,
where I do my crying.

I write myself out of trouble,
while you sleep off my headaches,
under the glamour of the stars,
who know every single secret,
but swear they’ll be silent,
as they watch over us.

You look at me,
like you know what I am,
but you don’t mind,
because you’ve seen me cry,
you know I never planned to trick a man,
into taking my mistakes,
turning me from cautionary tale,
to a queen.

I just wanted to be loved,
and you just want to love me,
until I don’t cry anymore.
Let’s forget who I was,
who I am.
Love me,
until I’m who I could be.



“I don’t want to go home, yet.”
You said.
The floor fell,
taking me with it,
we sunk silently,
in sync,
gaping lips,
until you politely pulled me to my feet,
and the floor got herself together.

I felt blue,
about my scarlet cheeks,
but you said you liked the colour.
I painted the whole room,
radiant red,
kissing your own cheeks,
until they were as shy a shade as mine.

The strangest thing,
is that we were strangers,
but the night wanted to watch us,
falling in love,
and we felt generous.
From bar to bar,
from apps to hearts,
I was drawn to you,
erasing nerves,
colouring outside the lines,
in excitement.

I saw you falling,
as I did.
we were both familiar with the floor,
and you confessed,
through crimson lips,
a gift, from me,
and my MAC Sin,
that you would never tire of my teasing.


Maybe He’ll Come Back

Maybe he’ll come back,
back to who I thought he was,
or maybe he didn’t ever leave,
and I just want someone,
to return,
who had never visited me at all.

Maybe he’ll be new,
to this party,
if I close my eyes,
if I count to ten,
if I make a wish.

Maybe he’ll have flowers in his hands,
and pouring from his lips.
Maybe he just needs some time,
maybe he will get it right,
maybe he’ll come back.

Maybe I won’t wait.


Staying After School

hills and fields,
my love,
I heard your name in every one,
every waning whisper of the wind,
as I lay in your lap,
wary but wild,
and you read to me.
I was taken from the ground,
a little girl lost to your gust.

I must stress,
I was literate before we met,
but under your passionate perception,
my eyes were carefully cut open,
suddenly selfless,
I learned how to read,
with my humble, hungry hands.
You stripped me down,
building back up,
until I was taller than the trees,
where you taught me how to Polish kiss.

We built nature,
with paper,
after hours,
when the moon was moving closer.
My naked neck,
made for your hook.
A pretty lamb,
and a man who should have known better,
but was too beaten up by life to care.

I fell asleep on roses,
in your coral clasp,
one finger on your lips,
to shush the sheep,
so I wouldn’t awake,
from our forest filled fantasy.
I don’t suppose you ever loved me,
or, I, you,
or maybe we do,
and we just pretend,
so the chasm we created,
doesn’t feel so confining


Sad Girl’s Love Song

I take each letter of your name,
embroidered to my existence,
experiencing euphoria,
every instant.

You are enough.

I swear that it’s love,
mood music and medicine,
from your tips to my lips,
a picture of perfection,
with any face I can find.

You are not done.

Let a girl love,
moving from mishap to mishap,
misshapen heart,
broken and barren,
but able to beat,
for today’s true love,
whoever that might be.

You are the sun.

I sing my sad girl’s love song,
high above the clouds,
careful not to close my eyes,
so I can recall,
the fire of each finale,
charred on my cheeks,
that are sick of salty soliloquies.

You are undone.

I’m stranded in an ocean I created,
from all the certainties I was wrong about,
as you swim out,
like all the others,
because everybody loves a sad girl,
that they’re certain they can fix.

You are wrong.
You are gone,
as I hold my heavy heart shut.



Surrounded by yoda’s,
unsure I was using the correct plural of yoda,
I chased a single feather,
my dress,
my prey,
flowing joyfully,
in the mild spring,
that was many months late.

White and wispy,
I watched it,
travel down steep stone,
where it was captured,
alone in my hands,
held close to my heart.
Gliding through the crowds,
of a rainbow city,
I found the fountain,
overflowing with new cars,
new jobs,
lost loves,
and days off school,
due to suspiciously convenient flooding.

Perched on the edge,
I placed my newfound feather,
together with every penny I’d ever found,
and filled the fountain
with your name.


A Moonlit Kiss in The West End

I remember you,
a six foot something sunset,
eagerly handing me candy clouds,
with our initials intertwined,
around the outside.

Your name melted on my tongue,
opulent, elegant syllables,
dancing down my throat,
and back out,
every time you touched me.

I could see my heart,
in your eyes,
claimed and captured.
My eyes search your shirt,
hoping to have your heart too.

I forgot how to breathe,
pressing my lips to yours,
stealing your air,
and tasting your intentions,
sweeter and more addictive than your name.

I could see the moon,
the stars drew near,
but you banished the night,
until the sky was nothing more,
than pretty lights for me to spy.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
Notes To My Muse

Ask Jen

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