Hunger Pains

I think I was ten.

Wearing midnight blue,

in the middle of the day.

My neighbourhood knew that one day,

probably in the middle of the day,

I’d be the world’s greatest dancer,

and so it span around me,

as I sat,

in the big girl’s passenger seat,

feeling real sweet,

in my midnight, midday, blue,

after dance class.

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Hawley Road.

You were my hero.

As I said,

I was probably ten,

but now,

I’d rather not say how old I am,

just that I am taking strepsil after stressed out strepsil,

hoping to finally choke to death.

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Anyway,

back to the car,

Hawley Road,

and the ten minute drive I cannot forget.

I think I was ten.

You were driving me home,

after dance class.

You’ve just done it again,

and I can’t see what I’m writing,

because the day you drove me home,

is replaying,

and tripping down my cheeks and lips.

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I was ten,

dance class.

I was a booster seat for a box,

filled with my favourite cakes.

I was Hawley Road.

Driving down ten.

Box booster seat.

I’d been dancing for hours.

I asked for a cake,

and you said,

that I was sent to dance,

so I could lose weight,

and suddenly,

I fell from the stars I performed for.

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I’m still falling now,

and I can see you,

forgetting to remember,

what I cannot forget.

I hadn’t had breakfast that day,

because we had overslept.


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Celebrate Your Life

Don’t go.

That’s vague,

non committal enough to be comfortable,

but I hope you’ll see through it all,

understanding that when I am with you,

I am home.

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I don’t know you.

That’s the truth,

maybe it makes this confusing,

but I hope we’ll have more summer days,

parading and praising each other,

here,

our home.

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I miss them.

That’s strange to say,

but it’s true,

and I’d miss you,

though all of you are mysteries to me.

We have lost so much,

threatened by more loss every day,

so please,

come home,

and celebrate your life.

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Please don’t go.

That’s a lot to ask,

it might not even be something you control.

When you bleed,

I am reeling,

my heart tied in knots,

because we are a part of each other’s pictures,

thrown together,

because people couldn’t understand us,

but we built ourselves a home.

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I love you.

That’s all I have to offer you,

but if you take it,

or if you don’t,

I’ll fight for you.

Just make sure you come home,

every now and then,

so we can spend the summer days,

just living.

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Celebrate your life,

celebrate what we have,

here,

built through the years,

by those who we lost,

and those who we have yet to meet.

Celebrate your life,

with me,

at home.


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The Well Of Loneliness

My love for her,

was a natural,

God given state,

sent from the clouds that surrounded sunrises,

that we’d often watch,

our fingers finding each other,

in the camouflage of gentle grass,

meeting in the muted mellow moments of quiet,

when nobody could catch us,

capturing each other in a kiss.

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She was bliss.

With her in my arms,

and on my mind,

the questions of my quest for fulfilment,

were finally forgotten,

and I could exist,

not divided,

divine and decidedly at peace,

knowing that I was born,

to kiss her,

full on the lips,

as a lover.

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I tell you of her,

not out of joy,

dear reader,

or for the heartbreak of denying you,

(and me) a happy ending.

She is gone.

I have spent six months,

moping in the meadow,

swearing at the sunrise,

for not bringing her back when it visits.

Pouring through page after page,

of this book she recommended.

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Of course,

it ended.

Whether we die,

or simply drift apart,

the gays shall always be buried.

I read The Well Of Loneliness,

to see if I could find a way,

to win back her heart,

but,

all I have is nonsensical notes,

and tear stained cheeks.

I suppose,

I’ll sail this ship alone.


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New Podcast Episode Available

Hola amigos,

There is a new podcast episode available, featuring some new poems, as well as discussions about social anxiety, being boycotted, falling in love with everybody and the adventures of Little Muffin.

You can find the new episode on your favourite podcast provider here, and you can find the episode guide for Sincerely, Jennifer x here.

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Besos,

J x



Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Sad Girl’s Love Song
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?

COME FIND ME

Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

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Spotify

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