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jenna 1d
if it was my choice i would’ve never fallen in love with you in the first place
well, you know,
i say that.
you showed me an intimacy i never thought i’d get to experience
and maybe if i was a little more trusting in the universe to give us all what we can choke down
i would’ve said “i know you love me”
instead of “prove it to me”
and right now i’d be saying “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be”
and not begging the gods to give you back to me.
jenna 3d

there’s been a lot of it.

in the air, in the world,

between my shoulder blades,

forming against you and i.


there hasn’t been enough of it.

bickering and butting heads,

the bitter flavor of annoyance.

worrying about

the paychecks,

the car, the house,

the war of growing up

and moving on,

hasn’t much helped me out.

you’ve seemed stagnant

for months, for over a year,

and you will only tell me

what you want me to hear.

all i want to say is

“get your act together.”

“just actually try a little.”

“it isn’t rocket science.”

“just grow up.”

so, in conclusion,

i’ve learned my lesson

about begging people

for the bare minimum,

so i’m refusing to be

‘the bigger person’

for the rest of this continuum.
jenna May 2019
detachment is key
to a life
full of coping.

i love,
i love hard and full.
i love with
the parts of me
i normally have
numbed and dulled.

but my heart
is still
wired to
my brain.
no decisions go
unchecked or
no love goes
without pain.

i don’t charm
others with the
intent to harm.
it always
feels like
the right play,
until i’m,
stuck in-between
my heart and
my brain.

fight or flight,
that’s the game,
no attachment,
no endearment,
no loss of anything.

i hope one day
someone comes along
and cuts my string.
i hope i can love
without second thoughts,
and think without
worrying about my
love for them
getting in the way.

i hope they see
the side of me
i know is buried.

i hope they can
love me
jenna May 2019
“happy mother’s day!”
plastered everywhere,
tangled in my hair;
it’s knotted and tearing,
crowding my eyes,
my ears..
it frustrates me.
jenna Sep 2018
‘it’s possible to love her
even after all of this’
needles into arms
spoons with burnt bottoms
passed out on the floor

i knew when you
lied about being over it
you were still skinny
i saw the needle marks
in the crook of your elbow
i saw the spoons
in the back of the drawer
i knew when you
made me go home so soon
your dealer was also your affair
your husband, your ex lover
your ex life, the opposite of living
you’re dying
you are dying and it is your fault
and i have run out of empathy
yes it is a disease
yes it starts as a choice
you were depressed
but you still

you said.

“who cares i want to die anyway
who cares i’ll ruin my body
my brain my
my life”

the hope has left your eyes

what’s it like to look up to a destroyer
what’s it like to love a broken woman
what’s it like to watch the progression
the regression
the walking backwards
one step forward but if you say
“just one more time”
it’s 5 steps back
10 steps back
the cut is deeper
the scars are darker
and you are gone.

what’s it like
to admire an addict
to be denied what you had
to be ignored
questions go unheard
“where have you been?
is everything okay?
i miss you.”

you see the inevitable
you hope it turns out different
you hope she is the one in a million
to miss a ruiner
to cry over the loss
to realize that
you distanced yourself for this exact reason

it is sickening
and you ask
“what if”
but “what if”
“what is”
so you vow to never go down that path
so you pray you will break the cycle
so you progress
one step at a time.
to admire an addict
in my case
was to love someone who was
considered unlovable
falling apart

i cannot blame myself
but that is easiest
to blame myself
for the inevitable.
jenna Aug 2018
“home is where the heart is”
at least, that’s what they say.
i like to think of “home”
as a place where you want to stay.
somewhere where you’re needed,
where you’re valued, where you’re loved.
somewhere where you’re safe,
where you’re comfortable, where you’re hugged.
“home is where the heart is”
and i hope that it is true,
because i don’t care where my home is at,
as long as i’m with you.
cheesy but <3
jenna Jul 2018
the kind of person that gives you
great for breakups
or motivation to get off your ***.
they use logic. they say things simply.
it hurts
but the truth is
often what you need to hear.

the kind of person that gives you
and love:
great for the sad days,
and for hope that the brighter days are
just around the corner.
they use compassion. they quote books.
it feels nice,
and you might get a good cry.

sometimes, though,
the spiral doesn’t want
or the blunt truth.
it wants, not understanding,
or reassurance,
because telling it that
“everything is going to be okay.”
makes it burn even worse.

sometimes it needs to
laugh at itself.
not to be told that it is
being ridiculous,
but to realize that
they way its brain works
is, in fact, ridiculous.
how it can look at a rainbow
and turn it into tears,
how it can laugh at
the most horrible joke, but yet
still get sick
at the idea of its friends
being in pain.

it needs to be reminded that
it is complex.
and that, while everything
will eventually feel better,
it might be worse one day,
that itself,
and the metaphors it uses,
are just a small fraction of
the extravagant art
its pain,
its brain,
is able to create.
you are more than your thoughts.
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