Jennifer

Jennifer Jun 11

I used to think love was a celestial event,
a comet that comes when you’ve mapped the heavens right,
after you’ve polished your best constellation smile,
stood beneath the stars you thought you deserved.
Love, I thought, was Sunday-best.
A version of me sipping coffee in soft light,
the best of my laugh tucked in my sleeve,
waiting for someone to read me like an open book.
But love is elusive as the moon’s dark side,
its phases a trickster,
never quite full when I need it most.
So I lace my skates and carve infinity into asphalt,
the sound of my wheels singing to a night that listens better than lovers ever have.
I turn pages in books that leave me breathless,
where characters love like galaxies colliding,
and I wonder if I’ll ever write a chapter like that.
Sometimes, I scan the sky,
hoping to catch the glow of love’s reflection,
but all I find is myself,
a hopeless romantic with hands inked in wanderlust
and a heart like a thrift store globe,
turning endlessly for someone who might never arrive.
I used to believe love waited until I was ready,
like a preacher at the altar,
but now I know love doesn’t keep appointments.
It’s messy, unpredictable—
like skating downhill too fast and not knowing how to stop.
So I keep searching, not for love, but for ways to cope:
to make the void my companion,
to find romance in moonlight and the way books smell when they’re old,
to laugh at my best jokes even when no one’s listening.
Because maybe love doesn’t come when I’m ready,
or when I’m fun,
or when I’m polished and perfect.
Maybe love finds me when I’m lost—
scraping my knees on pavement,
howling at the moon for answers,
reading the same story for the hundredth time,
falling for the universe instead of waiting for it to fall for me

Jennifer Jun 11

Shadows grasp (my battle)

Sometimes it’s too dark to tell what’s real

I wake up numb, forget how to feel.
It’s not just the night, it’s the weight in my chest,
The constant war that gives me no rest.
I try to breathe, but the air turns cold,
Try to be brave, but I feel too old
Like the pieces of me that used to fight
Got lost somewhere between wrong and right.
They say, “Just walk toward the light, you’ll see,”
But the light feels like it’s hiding from me.
Each step forward is a mountain climb,
And sometimes I just don’t have the time

Or the strength. Or the will. Or the fight in my veins.
I’m tired of dancing in acid rain.
I scream in silence, pray through the tears,
But God feels distant , blurred by my fears.
I wonder if healing is even for me,
Or if I’m meant to drown quietly.
Still, something inside won’t fully let go.
A whisper. A flicker. A half-buried glow.
It’s not quite hope, but it’s not quite gone

Some part of me still wants to hold on.
I carry this pain like a second skin,
But maybe—just maybe—I’ll rise again.
Not today. Maybe not even soon.
But someday, I’ll step out from under this moon.
Because even in ruin, I still exist,
And that, somehow, feels like resistance

Jennifer Jun 11

Dont fumble whats ment

Don’t Fumble What’s Meant

You’ve been handed a position, a gift, a chance,
To stand beside a woman who’s built to advance.
I’m more than worthy, a dream come alive,
A force that grows stronger, determined to thrive.

I’ve walked through fire, healed from pain,
Found faith in the storm, and danced in the rain.
I’ve built a foundation on God and His plan,
A family-oriented, faith-led woman who stands.

This steam I’m building, it’s just the start,
Fueled by purpose, driven by heart.
So don’t catch me just to hold me still,
I’m destined to climb, to conquer, to build.

If you step up, be ready to lead,
To match my strength, my focus, my speed.
I’m not for the weak or the faint of heart,
I’m a woman of vision, playing my part.

So handle this gift with honor and care,
Because what I offer is rare and fair.
If you fumble the chance, just know it’s true—
I’m unstoppable, with or without you.

— The End —