black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.

Jessica Wilde

A wooded winter trail awaits, no footprints pressed upon the snow – a path I dared not once to take but now – I must go.
JESSICA WILDE

Await Dare Myself Snow Winter
Time aches- my words break as if they’re the wings of a captured butterfly as if they’re the seconds that keep ticking by as if they’re embers that refuse to ignite.
JESSICA WILDE

Break Ignite Refusal Time Word
Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.
JESSICA WILDE

Cold Myself Rain Skin Warm
When winter withers – my bones begin to thaw, my lungs crackle as they expand, and the blood in my veins start to flow and I awaken from hibernation – hungry for happiness and eager to let go.
JESSICA WILDE

Awake Beginning Bone Flow Happiness Hungry Let Go Start Winter
I’m half agony, half hope – like I’m a freshly cut bone, like the last stone that was held – then not thrown, like a garden where inspiration roots but never grows.
JESSICA WILDE

Agony Garden Growth Hope Myself Stone
I hear your voice say my name and my soul melts slow, I’m a helpless mess.
JESSICA WILDE

Help Mess Myself Name Slow Soul Voice
I know I haven’t told you, but I also know, that you’ve felt my love.
JESSICA WILDE

Feeling Known Love Yourself
Fireside and free, tangled up in curiosity, dripping in holy honesty, drawing in pure ecstasy, exploring possibilities – a cabin in the woods.
JESSICA WILDE

Curiosity Explore Freedom Honesty Possible Wood
Loving you is like breathing in freshly fallen snow-baptized mornings.
JESSICA WILDE

Breathe Love Morning Snow Yourself
Misty morning welcomes me as I wander through the trees – calm amidst the chaos of distant memories.
JESSICA WILDE

Chaos Distant Memories Morning Welcome
Cider and candor and cranberry kisses, firelight dancing – lowered inhibitions, our eyes caught up in intimate moments, soaking in these cinnamon-spiced secrets.
JESSICA WILDE

Dance Eyes Intimate Light Moments Ourselves Secret
I am swept beneath your current – it pulls me in, and I don’t even try to swim.
JESSICA WILDE

Current Myself Try
Lost journals are steps back home, like the mending of broken bones, like scars that act as patches to my soul, like the measurement marks on my mother’s wall that show just how much I’ve grown.
JESSICA WILDE

Growth Home Journal Lost Mark Measurement Mom Myself Scars Wall
You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.
JESSICA WILDE

Hold Pieces Return Yourself
Wouldn’t it be enchanting if pixie dust and fairy wings could fix all our broken dreams?
JESSICA WILDE

Break Dreams Enchant Ourselves Wings
What do you do, when all the loves you’ve ever known have only been paper moons?
JESSICA WILDE

Love Moon Paper Yourself

You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.

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You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.

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