Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Toyland

Summer seeps through the spokes,
of your baby blue bicycle wheels.
From the sidewalk,
I stare,
through long lashes,
and tinted glasses,
a popsicle in my pastel pout.

I hope you’ll fall,
graze your knee,
tumbling in my direction,
so I can peek,
through tinted glasses,
and eager eyes,
at what you hide,
in your toy chest.

Take me to Toyland,
on the very next train.
Wind in the white ribbons,
my mother hoped could keep me pure,
as we lean out the window,
making faces at the future.

I’m tentatively tempted,
to give in to growing up.
Discovery is a toy for two,
but once we play,
we can never return,
to being just friends,
or being just strangers,
or being untouched,
by the claws of candy concupiscence.

pexels-photo-1056555

You lay out the board,
like you’ve done this before.
Mystic, merry, mistakes are made,
your intentions spilled in my lap,
crawling up and down my legs,
as I coax myself from the ceiling,
with promises that nobody will know,
and that all the cool kids are doing it.

Then,
it is done,
and I am torn from the grounds of Toyland.
Marched to the gates,
by beanie babies,
who hold my white dress,
spotted with my innocence,
above my head,
monkeys playing the drums of my demise.

I can never return again,
and I don’t have your heart,
to remember you by,
because you only wanted to play,
for the afternoon.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Beautiful Baby

You’ve been beautiful,
baby,
and I swear it’s been real,
but you were too much for me,
you were too good to me.
So these words are all that’s left,
as I vanish into another night.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Summer Sun

When the sun goes down,
I still shade my view,
with blue hearts,
so you can’t see,
my aching eyes,
that want more than the summer,
from you.

The rest of me,
is just as crazy about you,
I bury myself under soft sand,
waiting for waves to tell me what went wrong.
I already know.
I watch you,
through blue hearts,
broken-hearted eyes,
soft sand,
and summer regrets.

summer sun jennifer juan.jpg

It’s not your fault,
if I said yes,
to summer,
thinking it could last forever,
but I’ll always hate you,
just as much as I love you,
for being so close,
but disappearing,
with the setting sun.

Winter approaches,
with the sun,
in fleeting,
fortunate moments,
but it doesn’t feel the same on my skin.
I’ve hoarded my memories of you,
set out like a shrine,
atop the soft, sombre sand,
that knows it will never be the same,
now you’re gone.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

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,
when they 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.

flowers jennifer juan

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.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Melody

I wrote you a song,
shyly singing,
story of our strange love,
our starry eyed,
stupid but brave love,
all the ways you drove me insane,
love.
La, la, la,
love.

melody jennifer juan.jpeg

Our song is terrible,
because we never learned to harmonise.
You can’t project,
slipping in and out of key,
and every now and again,
I forget the longing, loving lyrics.
Our song is terrible,
my strange,
starry eyed,
stupid but brave love,
but I can’t get it out of my head.


Enter The Poetry Competition here

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