Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Silvery

Sunday,

you are sweet on me,

staring as I sing,

surrounded by sage,

spelling out my own name,

with the spiralling smoke.

You kiss me,

in the car,

outside of church,

the devil is loose,

as you pray,

hands on my waist,

tender,

then tighter,

your resolve,

wrecked,

wavering,

wild wolves beat in your heart,

breaking free,

when we are alone,

and you are insane.

I am sweet,

on your sheets,

bound and beautiful,

yours,

completely.

Crowned by the glow,

of your chaotic energy,

complicated communications,

that spill from you to me.

There is silver seduction,

safe in my hands,

as I hold you close,

the night,

knowing our secrets,

but keeping our confidence.

I hear your call,

at the harbour,

when you return,

every morning,

but you cannot stop yourself from doubting,

that I am devoted to you.

I think you might love me forever,

fretting,

on the ferry home,

that you aren’t enough for me,

but my soul is in the sea,

guiding your heart towards mine,

and your name,

is clear and strong,

in every wave.

I wait.

I wait.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

A Change

Black lace,

baked into my skin,

into my soul.

I know who I was supposed to be,

born and bred,

by Aphrodite,

to belong to somebody,

sleeping in silk,

breathing bridal vows,

in my dreams,

they flow around me,

floating like clouds,

abstract ideas.

I know that one day,

it will come,

but when…

When…

When?

Am I a wife,

or a widow?

It depends,

on the day of the week,

and the things they say to me,

and if I can convince myself,

that it wont fall apart,

that I won’t fall apart,

again.

How many “How are you?”,

“Send pics”

“Sorry, I’m just not after something serious”

invasions must I endure?

Reversals,

oppositions,

but eventual ever after.

Someone who will be fair,

to my frightened heart.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Sant Jordi, With You

It has been so many days,

three hundred and sixty six,

to be exact,

since I sent my dreams down the river,

on a boat,

I planned to sink,

seeing love,

as a damaging dream,

that would kill me,

if I didn’t kill it myself.

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I spent a summer writing to myself,

sitting on the shelf,

where I felt safest,

banishing roses from my bedroom,

blood red beating heart,

begging for company.

I lamented,

languishing in loss,

living in a grey world,

dreaming of the dream I drowned.

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I wrote a world of roses and promises,

but sometimes books burn,

torn and tattered,

when they are given with love,

but not loved in return,

so I decided to stop,

just writing to myself,

spending Sant Jordi with my soul,

buying myself books,

roses,

and cider.

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This year,

I am at the riverbed,

reviving the dream that I drowned,

and mourned,

writing new books,

with new twists and turns,

roses on my skin,

with each kiss you plant,

and I give those kisses,

sweet like roses,

to the dream

that found her way back to me.

My heart,

safe in your gentle hands.

My dream,

alive.

My soul,

alive.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Mwah

Layering lip gloss,

daring him to do his worst,

playful,

I pretend that I am blind,

to the desires that bind him to me,

as if I cannot hear,

what his hands scream.

I ask him,

with one glance of my eyes,

to the lust in his lap,

what his plans are for tonight,

and then,

I am snatched into a sensual storm.

He rains.

He rages.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Love Is Cannibalism

I ask you again,

before you’ve even finished reassuring me,

for the thirteenth time,

I ask you if I’m awake,

existing in a time,

where someone truly adores me.

img_2054

I rest my head,

on all the scenarios I have seen,

in my overactive, overexcited imagination,

asking myself why I can’t sleep,

why I can’t breathe,

why am I walking into woe for the hundredth time?

img_2053

I sing my self through sad sweetheart hours,

pathetic and peering at my phone,

wasting all my wishes,

on texts and kisses,

that form a candy trail,

into your forest,

where I will meet my demise,

and frankly,

I will be relieved that it’s all over.


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