Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Sincerely, Jennifer x – S04E43 – The #GoodVibesOnly Episode

On today’s episode, Jennifer shares some new poems, and talks about how to recover from a broken heart, how to prepare your heart for new adventures, when to say no, and what the hell Blackfishing is.

Jennifer also updates you on recent events in British politics, including Rishi Sunak begging the public to eat out with him (ew Rishi), Nicola Sturgeon being the prom queen of handling pandemics and Mark Francois going full midlife crisis

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

Season 4

Besos,

J x



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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Holiday I Hoped We Would Have

I thought,

for a moment,

on the Ferris wheel,

above a sea you’d never seen,

in the ever moving, ever evolving flesh,

that we would be immortalised.

A puke inducing public display of affection,

that made tourist children cover their eyes,

and parents sigh,

with nostalgia, along with the knowledge that they’d later have to explain,

about birds,

bees,

and public decency.

It was just a kiss.

Just a kiss,

that I had canonised,

devising every detail,

in my daydreams,

marking it in pencil,

on my calendar,

moving the date every now and again,

until,

one day,

I put down my pencil,

and put the kiss out of its misery,

behind the shed.

One bullet.

One tear.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Red Ribbon

I am so awake,

but so tired of it.

You sleep,

by my side,

and I weep,

watching your dreams,

all the days you have to live,

without the remains of the frayed red ribbon,

that used to hold us together.

I watch your dreams,

the way they change,

depending on who you’re facing.

Things you said,

swirl sublimely,

replaying constantly,

and I start to see the dreams distort.

Distraught,

and so awake,

I sing myself to sleep,

crooning a lullaby,

about how crazy I am.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

I Don’t Love Her Anymore

I don’t love her anymore.

She wakes up too early,

aching arms yawn,

reaching for a moment that melted,

before she awoke.

She closes her fingers in the door,

just to be held,

for a second,

tears from dawn ‘til dusk,

tearing her clothes from her skin,

in case you drop by.

She knows you like her like that,

but she doesn’t like herself,

her nightly normal,

delusion for dinner,

disappointment for dessert,

deserted by a dream that never promised to come true,

unhappy and undressed,

in the moonlight,

cider and cigarettes,

high on the happy thought,

that she’s bound for better things,

when the sun rises,

and she’s survived another night alone.

The sun never rises,

stars collide,

falling down around her,

forming a shadow.

She is smiling,

free as a death row darling,

that has found God,

and a way to accept their fate.

I don’t love her anymore,

but I wish that I did,

so I could dress her,

dragging her back to dignity,

back to safety,

away from the melancholy moon,

that just wants a sad soul,

to drink with.