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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

Your laughter sounds like a galactic symphony, your eyes shine magic like Saturn’s rings, and your golden hair flares like the sun. I smile as I rock the universe to sleep and sing of stars that twinkle deep within your dreams.
JESSICA WILDE

Dreams Laughter Magic Myself Shine Sound Stars Symphony Universe
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
I chip and carve until I’m a corpse – a bone with no marrow, or a sparrow without wings, a vein without wings, a vein without blood, a puppet with no strings.
JESSICA WILDE

Blood Bone Death Myself Wings
Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.
JESSICA WILDE

Cold Myself Rain Skin Warm
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
I learned all about love from people that didn’t know how to love me.
JESSICA WILDE

Learning Love Myself People
I lace barbed wire around my heart, constrict it – pull tight, maybe the pain will make it feel alive, and I can pretend it didn’t already die.
JESSICA WILDE

Death Feeling Heart Myself Pain Pretend
Wouldn’t it be enchanting if pixie dust and fairy wings could fix all our broken dreams?
JESSICA WILDE

Break Dreams Enchant Ourselves Wings
You break everything you touch. Why was I surprised when you broke me too?
JESSICA WILDE

Break Surprise Touch Yourself
When rules don’t make sense, ask questions, break barriers, rise above it all.
JESSICA WILDE

Break Question Rise Rule
I simply cannot hold onto hope, it aches like possibilities never reached, I’m bubbling over with grief – this chaos has caused so much loss and fatigue.
JESSICA WILDE

Fatigue Grief Hope Loss Possible Reach Simplicity
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
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
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
My mind is not my own. I don’t recognize her when I am alone.
JESSICA WILDE

Alone Depression Mindset Myself Recognition
You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.
JESSICA WILDE

Hold Pieces Return Yourself

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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