Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Star Watching

The earth is still tonight.

Gradient sky,

so sweet and shy above me,

so many shades of blue,

dusky and delicate,

showing off the stars I never see,

because air pollution wants all the attention,

but the earth is still tonight,

and the stars are here to visit,

I remember when I stood by your side,

as you showed them to me,

and I wanted you to love me,

forever.

Tell me,

that you will.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Confessions Of An Angsty Flyer

I am in the sky,

the past is a passenger with me,

as I listen to our phone call,

from last Friday,

where I lied,

letting you think that I didn’t write,

with tears in my eyes,

about you.

Blue eyes,

that I knew,

were blue,

that I love,

even when I am miles away,

that I dream of every night,

that I hope to never lose.

I am not bandaged in time,

this time.

I am flying,

feeling my heart skip,

each time I hear your voice,

knowing I would need more bandages,

if I didn’t have a piece of you,

to keep me on the path away from you.

We live in the same state of fear,

and I am panicked by your sighs.

We were fighting on Friday,

I was vague and unhelpful,

because I didn’t know how to tell you,

that I wanted to be in your arms,

but I feared being there,

in case things weren’t the same,

as they were before Friday,

and before every other day,

when I slip,

close to a cliff edge,

wondering,

distant and dreary,

wondering if this is the time that I lose you.

I am listening to our phone call,

from last Friday.

I assume you didn’t know I kept them,

but they are close to my heart,

and essential to me staying sane,

when I cannot be close to you.

You asked me what was on my mind.

I acted like I was fine,

and I know it was annoying,

and I know I’m not supposed to say I’m annoying,

but I was wondering,

yet again,

when it would be the last time,

I will be your hunnybee.

If you’ll love me,

a day,

a week,

a lifetime longer.

I was wondering,

when I would lose you,

because I can’t believe you’re mine.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Send Her To Me

Maybe death is in the air.

I wouldn’t know,

it’s not like it rides in on a horse,

these days.

I watched the news last night,

waiting in silence,

as walls close in,

on every dream destination,

that I thought I’d escape to.

I called my grandparents last night,

letting them know I cared,

like it was the last time,

like life’s really ending,

fires finding their way to every corner of my mind,

as I scan empty shelves,

wondering if the apocalypse could spare me a second,

to decide if I’m really done.

I watch the flag,

from a bench by the ashtrays,

outside your office,

red,

white,

blue,

dancing with the wind.

I think I might call you,

like it’s the end of the world,

see if you’ve stopped pretending like we can be friends,

but then I remember,

that you’ve been gone,

since last summer,

and the sobbing wound in my soul,

that I had convinced to stop crying,

is screaming again,

because I have never felt more alone,

and everyone around me feels infectious,

because I watch the news when I’m depressed,

just to feel anxious,

because,

fuck it,

that feels more productive than straight sadness.

I wrote a sapphic song about you,

and it felt like I was giving the last of you away,

so soon after I lost you,

but it was so beautiful,

that I couldn’t hide it anymore,

and I had this regret stuck in my throat,

as I sang,

wishing I’d dragged you to London,

that July.

Why am I thinking about you?

You didn’t have to tell them you loved me.

You could have just pretended we were friends.

Straight girls go to pride all the time,

right?

Angel,

I know you’re gone,

but this could be the last time,

because there’s this thing,

in the air,

death,

like when you left me,

and I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I feel like I can’t talk about you,

because it hurts me,

and it hurts him,

and you’re probably hurting somewhere in heaven,

with your hazel gaze,

glistening with tears,

but you’re stuck in my throat,

and I can’t breathe.

I cross the road,

like I don’t have a care in the world,

ignoring that I might like to see under some cars,

holding every urgent text,

from my heart,

close to my chest,

when I’m just thinking about death,

even though it isn’t destined for me,

because despite fifteen menthols a day,

and self destructive tendencies,

I am in tip top condition,

but hey,

the world is ending,

and I missed you,

for a moment.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Fire Of My Loins

I am sitting in a whirlwind,

of woeful, wistful voices,

veering closer,

as I sit with my smug smile,

and my cheap notebooks,

full of cheap cracks,

about everyone I perceive to have punished me.

img_5215

I close my windows,

just to make sure I’m alone,

waking up when both the sun and moon are sleeping,

so the city is my own,

and I do not have to share.

img_5217

Line to line,

I get by fine,

prosey,

pretentious Princess,

fucking my feelings,

and my finest work,

every night,

because they satisfy me,

in a way no man or woman ever could.

Screaming silently,

drowning in my own divine decadence,

dreaming in Spanglish,

slow motion declarations of devotion,

from a carousel of cancelled affections.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

A Day In Which She Wasn’t Late (For Once)

We hold on to the strangest things,

in the ten minutes of turmoil,

from bridges to crosses.

I hold on to the other day,

to distract me from the crowded silence.

I hold on to the other day,

when I counted the seconds,

until I could count the characters in your reply.

Now I am waiting again,

buried underneath the dreams of the damned,

daring to dream my own nightmare,

where my heart hurts,

then heals itself,

as I twist it into whatever you desire.

I am built for your embrace,

holding the pole,

just to be safe,

resisting the urge to unfold into you entirely,

wishing I could,

wasting another thought,

on the one who is busy,

but hopefully,

still seeing me somewhere in his mind’s eye.

I am carrying my whole life in a case,

for a couple of days,

and for the first time,

on one of my many quests to escape,

I just want to go home,

to you.

Do you understand?

I don’t want to be alone,

for the first time.

I don’t want to be alone.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
In The Garden Of The Free Children
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Soundcloud
Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

Podcast
Spotify

YouTube
Rumbl
Email Me