{he loves me, he loves me not}

{he loves me, he loves me not} every day, i try to unearth, the question looming above me. i live my life, reading in between the lines, searching for answers, that don’t exist. when in reality, what is meant to be, will be; like the forest trees, they just are, enjoying the present moment. i’d…

{no regrets, just weapons learned}

{no regrets, just weapons learned} maybe if i never stop thinking about my mistake, i’ll never make it again. or i could forgive myself and move on… but that’s a risk i’m not willing to take. –e.l. jayne

{fruitless}

{fruitless} to have it all, or to have nothing; a land of barrenness and broken hearts lies between. the devil smiles as you discard your art, where would you be,  if you never surmised the courage to start? –e.l. jayne

{forged in flames}

{forged in flames} this is where the story begins, where the mountains kiss the sky, and creatures of folklore dance beneath the moonlight, forged in flames, they behave as if they are enough,  just walking around and enjoying themselves. they were made of peace, and only sought to find more peace. lived, loved, and left…

{you and trust}

{you and trust} after the violent sunset, i lie here restless, upon crumpled leaves, hidden caves reveal reality, all of these stars and us, all i need  is you and trust. –e.l. jayne

{bereft an answer} poem x e.l. jayne

{bereft an answer} pink light reflects off the granite mountains, if I had all the answers, I would surely act accordingly, today, I have only reality, and I cannot play with that. life hurts less when you see it for what it is. when will i look back, and not have the urge to rewrite…

{the paralysis of i don’t know} poem x e.l. jayne

{the paralysis of i don’t know}poem x e.l. jayne succumbed to the sheer solidity, of failing to forecast the future, we permit the moment to paralyze us.  life grants us our freedom of choices, yet the inherit fear of failing forces us to a standstill,  which, to be explicit,  is an automatic forfeit.  sometimes, skin…

{sapience}

{sapience} why do i think writing is a worthy pastime? putting my thoughts on paper, will help someone overcome theirs? words are air; nothing of sustenance can be derived from them. but my spirit confides in me otherwise. –e.l. jayne