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Jennifer Freya May 2013
Shouting a hello to a dark and empty room,
Hearing my cry echo back to where I stand
Alone without friends in the space of my mind
Facing the harsh truth that my soul demands.

I look for sunshine even though I only see grey.
A level deep within takes pleasure in the despair
Of the vast empty sky, bereft of warmth and light.
Sitting here I loathe that which I feel I cannot repair.

Curled up on the bed, clutching the sides of a hollow body,
Wishing for comfort, for a companion to understand,
I know that I’ll be right here again tomorrow,
Even though there are some willing to lend a hand.

Because this darkness has become familiar,
Making it a comfortable, though destructive place.
I unleash the usual wealth of tears and hatred,
For frustration with who I am and who I’m not is a losing race.

Rubbing at the itchy tearstains on already-red cheeks,
I remind myself that I am not alone and that I am strong.
But I no longer wish to believe that for how can it be true,
When I’ve been crushed under this weight for so long?

Pain is a feeling, which is better than feeling nothing.
Crying for a faraway love, for feeling lost in my dreams,
Shattered under the expectations of others (and of myself),
Spiritless, with no motivation to sew the torn seams.

Ironic really, how this feeling can hurt so much,
Yet be craved with an incredibly forceful need.
Like an addiction, knowing that it is wrong,
But still I always choose the mind-numbing ****.

For it takes away the hard reality of life
Allowing an escape into a world surreal.
Because that seems better than the truth
Of a world that I can no longer feel.
Jennifer Freya Feb 2013
Stars shoot across the midnight sky
And the drunkards shout outside my window,
Screaming about nonsense that I don’t hear,
Because I am dreaming . . .

Behind my lids lies blackness,
But in front of my eyes I see wonderful sights;
I am an adventurer, strong and fearless.
I have wings.

I am me, unhindered by this-worldly chains -
Chains like time and space and gravity
(Which together are quite a tragedy) –
Watching as the universe unfolds.

Suspended in mid-air, haunted by places of the past
And impossible visions of an invisible future,
I see faces familiar and faces strange,
Mixing the stages of a conscious life.

Snuggled in the warmth of my worn blankets,
I feel the comfort of your unseen arms around me,
Holding me tight in my dream-world bright
In a corner of indiscernible dark.

I watch as the plot unwinds and thickens
And disappears again to a timeline surreal.
But the adventure grows stronger and the will more determined
And I watch more vividly as my consciousness begins to stir.

But before the war is won and the kiss received,
Before I say the words unspoken,
Before I die a victim of tragic death,
The wish remains unwished.

My eyes open and I’m left to the sound of alarm
And the light of a morning too bright.
My heart is beating fast, captivated
By the wish it made that can never come true.

A smile alights my waking-up face,
Remembering fondly the adventures of my mind.
But the day is to begin and will take from my memory
The dream that has already disappeared.
Jennifer Freya Jun 2013
Wisps of memories grace my mind
Like a cold mist in the morning
Upon my skin.

Phantom sensations of lips and hands,
Threads of touches that grazed my face
Make me smile.

A voice deep and comforting in tone,
Whispers of sweet words ringing like echoes
In my ears.

Images of you, fading and blurry,
Stand where you stood, smiled where you sat
In my mind’s eye.

Dreams of fantasies that never came true
Haunt me as I struggle between what was
And what wasn’t.

Wonderings of where you are now,
How you feel, and if you think of me
Often or never.

Realizations that goodbye was inevitable
And hurt because you disappeared so quickly
Like a ghost.
Jennifer Freya Dec 2012
A Heartbeat, pounding out the rhythm of life
Counting happiness and sorrow and strife
Steady and strong or weak and fading
Life and death always trading
The pounding that is senseless, yet carefully measured
In minutes and moments treasured;
Like when I’m leaning on your chest,
With my eyes closing in a peaceful rest,
I hear your heartbeat pound on surely
Lulling me to sleep, like a good-night story.
And I think how precious it is, that sound I’m hearing
Because the moment it stops is a moment I’m fearing.
I’d like to listen to your heart forever,
I don’t want to say goodbye, not now or ever.
So hold me close to your heart beat strong
And love me for countless heartbeats long.
Jennifer Freya Feb 2013
Hugs - they squeeze away
the pain I keep hidden deep
down inside of me.
Jennifer Freya Feb 2013
What if I told you that I could fly?
You probably wouldn't believe me,
But my friend and I, you see,
We are as free as can be.

Don’t give me that look!
I’m referring to my horse,
And although he can’t speak to me of course,
We, together, are an unstoppable force.

It’s amazing how much you can understand
             without words.
I brush his soft coat of hair,
And look into his brown-eyed stare.
That’s something we have, you see, care.

When it’s time to ride I climb into the saddle,
His feet move at my gentle command,
And just like that we’re above the land;
I’m guiding him solely with my hand.

After minutes of warm-ups in trust,
Towards the fences so high we head,
And I whisper words of comfort while looking ahead
Pushing away fear, my eyes closing in love instead.

Because together, my horse and I,
No matter where we go
Or where the wind blows,
May it be rain or snow –

We can fly.
                                                Can you?

So after the broken bones you ask why I haven’t stopped.
And I look at you with a frown,
And then to my horse’s eyes so brown,
Knowing that without him I would surely drown.

I would sink to the bottom of this hopeless, charred earth.
I have something that you won’t ever will.
Something that stays with me still,
And will be there even when I’m old and ill.

I have someone who understands me with feeling alone
Because he can’t comprehend my words -
And you know I don’t run in herds -
Yet despite all this we can fly like birds.

So don’t question or ridicule,
That which you don’t understand.
I can fly and you can barely stand.
Close your eyes and give me your hand.

And take a look at the ground far below.

Maybe then you'll understand.
Jennifer Freya Apr 2013
It’s horrible, you know.
Not having a home, I mean.
My feet want to grow roots, and just when they sprout, I have to rip them up
          And start the process over again.
The place of my childhood is not where I belong anymore
It is comfortable in an odd, other-worldy, dream-like sense.
The place I now sleep will be different tomorrow.
          I am a nomad, with no place to call my own.
          Sometimes I wish I didn’t desire a safe place to call mine.
Home is where the heart is, they say.
          My heart belongs to no one.
                    Not anymore, anyway.
I used to believe that I had given it away,
          But I hadn’t,
                         Or maybe it was thrown back at me
                                     I can’t seem to remember.
                                    But I still feel the pain, and I remember that I don’t want to remember.
                  But in my dreams I can recall it all.
                             They are like nightmares, reminding me that I don’t belong
                             And that running won’t save me.
I wish I had a home, a heart to call mine, friendships nearby,
           And a warm fire to bring life back to my weary bones.
But it’s raining now, and I need to find shelter.
So I’ve got to go,
I doubt I’ll return.
I won’t ask you to remember me,
Though I’ll remember the empty space that you might’ve once filled.
Jennifer Freya Jan 2013
Love is a stupid, silly thing
That makes us cry and sometimes sing.
I know you a little, or maybe a lot,
But can't you understand? I love you not.
It hurts for me to say this,
But you know it's true - we missed.
A friend is now a stranger,
There is no safety, only danger.
Like the dark time of night,
There's no warmth or light
In your eyes that I can see,
So let me forget and be free.
Because I won't stand here forever.
I loved you once; loved you for never.
Closing my eyes and standing still,
I know that I don't love you, but I always will.
Inspired by the song Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars; dedicated to a boy I know.
Jennifer Freya Sep 2013
I hope I haunt you
In the darkest hours of the night
Or the brightest moments in the sun
By the shore
In a car
Or shaded grass…
Feeling feelings that we felt
Reliving the moments
Hearing the words
Wishing it didn’t hurt anymore
‘Cause it’s been so long.
When you see someone from a distance
And she looks vaguely like me,
I hope your heart skips a beat
And your feet miss a step
And your breath catches in your throat.
When you realize I’m not there,
I wish your stomach to drop
And your head to hang
And your forehead to crease
As you fight tears.
And maybe this makes me a horrible person,
But all I want is for you to know
How I’ve been feeling
Since you’ve been gone.
Jennifer Freya Sep 2014
Two decades in and already swamped with memories
And only the desire to make new ones.
Walking to class or coming home
People ask me what I want to do,
What do I want to do with the rest of my life?

I can feel my throat constrict and my heart skid,
Don’t they understand how much of a commitment that is?
The rest of my life.

And what if it’s not something I want to do, but something I want to be?

I’m 20 years old and don’t ever have my head in this atmosphere,
So how can I ever hope to decide the rest of my life?

I want to write with the raindrops that kiss the grass
Or sleep on the waves of the ocean
And hold the stars in my hands.
I want to climb the highest tree or the highest mountain
Just so I can jump and call it flying.
I want to read the faces of others
And put them into stories.
But mostly I want to run,
Not literally,
But running still.
I want to catch time as it passes by
And go to all the places in the pictures
Enjoying adventure upon adventure
Until the end of my days,
Surrounded by the select few that I love.

I want to be nothing short of me,
And who I am isn’t a constant that can be applied to a formula,
It’s constantly changing, growing, fighting, loving.
How dare you ask me to define what I want to be,
When it’s plain that I don’t even know who I am?

I’m 20 years old and what I want to do for the rest of my life
Is nothing sort of a mystery, an adventure,
Like a storyline leading to an epic plot twist,
But it’s wrapped in uncertainty
And the only way to find out where it’s going
Is to keep reading the book.
Jennifer Freya Jan 2013
My friends are always with me
in laughter and smiles
through tears and trials
over many, many miles.

My friends are always with me
even when we're apart.
Our times together join us at heart,
from beginning to end, back to the start.

My friends are always with me
despite harsh words and fights.
There is always darkness, but they remind me of light.
They alter my vision and broaden my sight.

My friends are always with me
even when new ones are made and old forgot,
they stay in passing memory and thought
like shadows of the days we once sought.

My friends are always with me
even if circumstance tears us away,
and we lose touch; our paths not allowing us to stay.
We remember the times from August to May.

My friends are always with me
long after I know them no more.
I remember them as they were and love them sure.
For no matter what, where, or when,
       my friends are my friends, now, and then.
Jennifer Freya Dec 2012
I look at our faces frozen in time,
There were flowers in my hair and a gleam in your eye.
We were smiling,
Busy enjoying the moment that is now long past.
If it weren’t for these blocks of frozen time,
I’d’ve forgotten your face or the reason we were smiling in the first place.
And it seems to me that even these won’t do,
Because I can’t remember your voice,
Or what you said when we left.
And now all I have are these substitutes
That can’t bring you back to me
Or stop me from moving farther away.
I thought they’d help me remember;
They only remind me what I’m going to forget.
Because the day will come when I won’t look at these pictures anymore,
And you won’t be anything more than a shadow in my past,
A shadow that I can’t see.
And although I cry for you now, my tears will fade too,
As will yours.
And we will both wither into each other’s minds
Until we are no more than squares of images
Of a moment in a time when I remembered you
And you remembered me.
Jennifer Freya Jan 2013
Someone asked me once,
“What is your Prince Charming like?”
I said I didn't know him,
So they rephrased, “What would he be like?”

I answered the question truthfully,
Yet they think me cynical and hopeless.
This the case may be,
But I like to think that I’m just me.

This is what I’d said:
First of all, Prince Charming wouldn't be a prince.
He’d be an everyday guy, living day to day,
Searching for meaning, for someone to stay.

He’d be kind and smart and more outgoing than me,
But he’d listen and understand,
That sometimes I’m human and am afraid -
That I’ll lose my faith in love even though I've prayed.

He’ll have kind brown eyes that are down-to-earth.
He’ll share his secrets and savor mine.
When I’m down, he’ll lift me up high
And will make me smile when I cry.

He’ll hold me tight and squeeze away my pain,
He'll know to stay when I need him,
And that sometimes I like to be alone,
Yet he’ll show me all I've never known.

But, I finished, Prince Charming doesn’t exist,
And I’ve seen enough heart breaks to know,
That our Charmings aren’t what they seem
And that he’s really just the things of dreams.
Jennifer Freya Dec 2013
She’s a mystery,
A mosaic of broken pieces and complications,
Experiences he’ll not soon understand,
All sewn together by strands thin as spider’s web.

She's something fragile
Yet has walls so high.
He’s determined to knock them down,
One by one.

She hardly ever speaks,
All her thoughts are secrets that she keeps.
Slowly, gradually she’ll give away pieces of the puzzle
For him to put together.
Gently she does this, quite possibly terrified
That he’ll run away, in the end.

She doesn’t know that he wants to put the pieces into place,
That he’ll trace the scars, smooth the seams,
Until she doesn’t want him anymore.

And that is what he fears,
That one day, he’ll be too much for her,
And she’ll retreat into herself again.

Just like the way she turns on her heels
When their paths split.
She says “See you later,”
Never goodbye,
And always turns to look back at him
When she thinks he's not looking.

But one day, she might just leave without a sound
Walking pointedly in another direction,
Away from him
And never look back.
Jennifer Freya Jan 2014
Changes happen quickly
That’s what happens when you have a fickle heart
Oh to be human
Oh to feel –
But wait, aren’t those the same?

A complete paradigm shift
Like an earthquake of the mind
Leaves wreckage in scattered memories,
Beautiful trinkets lost in the rubble of broken homes.

What a metaphor for the heart!

Can you dare to believe that someone will heal you?
How could you put that weight on someone’s shoulders?
Your pain is yours to bear
Despite sweetened words and rosy promises.

You can’t fix anyone from the inside out either.
Eyes only see the surface,
Only see the façade, unintentional or otherwise.
Truth does not exist for you to see.

Truth. What is truth in love?
Is there truth in love?
Or is love a woven contradiction of hopes and fears,
Bent on the naïve wishes of teenage girls longing to be adored by boys with bright blue eyes and midnight hair?

Does the heart have a shape?
Curves and straight edges?
I think it’s a gooey blob that drips across the barroom floor
And if you’re not careful to clean up the mess you leave behind
You leave yourself behind.

Funny how that works. Ironic perhaps, but definitely cynical.

And if you don’t clean up like your mother always told you to,
Then it’s really your fault if you ask me.
Shouldn’t you know better by now?
After years of hearing what’s good for you and what isn’t
Why do you still have to be so stupidly stubborn?

You’re wrong, just face it.
Your heart is a useless lump that pumps hot red blasts through your body
That splashes pink across your face and lips
And catch his eye.

But don’t say I never told you, no don’t you dare say I never told you
That this silly little love story would end,
That it wasn’t even a love story to begin with.
Hell, it wasn’t even a story -
Just a ****** poem written in a lost-in-the-rubble diary that’s falling apart.

Yeah, I told you so.
Jennifer Freya Dec 2012
The faces stare blankly ahead,
No thoughts of where their feet tread.
I walk among them, lost and forsaken.
We faces have nothing; our souls have been taken
By the lives of other masked faces,
By the lies that breach even the most secure places.
Slowly our lives ebb away...
We cannot move nor can we stay.
So silently we wander through the streets,
Ignoring everything we see and everyone we meet,
Only concerned about the face in the mirror;
An image reflected as blankly as a white sheet of paper.
Jennifer Freya Mar 2013
He said he’d come.
He promised he’d be the one.
And I believed him.

And here I sit alone,
Staring out at the gray sky
Thinking and wishing for him.

This is the first time,
The first time I've wanted to fight
For love.

I've waited for too long.
Hanging on to what they tell me
Are empty promises.

But I don’t believe them.
I believe him.
And I sit alone.

He’s the only one
Who steals my thoughts,
Who understands.

And I believe that he understands,
Even if they doubt him.
I trust him.

But time passes.
And I realize I cannot wait forever,
Even if I wanted to.

So the doubt finally begins to form.
Is this meant to be, or not?
I wonder as I sit alone.
Jennifer Freya Jul 2013
Standing in the sand,
My feet sunken into the softness,

I feel a sort of longing,
As the waves kiss my ankles,

That is more than the tug
And release of the water upon the shore.

I lose a bit of myself,
Feeling pulled to the ocean,

That is more that the grains of sand
Scraping away at my skin.

The foamy waters come
And take away pieces of my soul,

And with each wave,
I feel a greater desire.

The roaring of the sea
Seems to call my name,

And I look to the distant boats with envy,
For I wish to be in their place.

Looking back to my feet,
Feeling the water come and go,

I draw patterns in the sand
That disappear, quickly erased.

And I think how much that is to life:
A force that lets you create

Then takes all away in an instant,
Leaving behind a blank slate.

I draw a heart
And I smile.

But just like that,
It’s gone,

With only a vague imprint
That, too, fades.

And so I draw a conclusion,
Standing here upon the shores of time,

The call To Be is strong
And unavoidable,

But, in the end,
The sea will erase it all,

Leaving a faint shadow to call memory,
Which is doomed to disappear in the horizon.

— The End —