{untitled poem xvi} x e.l. jayne

{untitled poem xvi} the walls had darker patches  where old paintings had hung for years, her favorite quote used to be, “you’re as happy as you want to be”  she doesn’t say it anymore. –e.l. jayne

{convalescence} poem x e.l. jayne

{convalescence} the era of romanticism expresses the appreciation for the ancient roman culture, which honors art, intuition, independence, and the individual experience, it contested the industrialization, and systemization of our lives, brought about by the enlightenment era, that argued for logic and reason to lead your life,  because that’s not living. emerging from my enlightenment…

{the accord of inertia} poem x e.l. jayne

{the accord of inertia} birthday candles were extinguished, children frolicked in their ghostly garments, the looming maples released the last of their leaves, october came and concluded, families gathered to feast, evergreens were dressed in their icicle draped branches, all the transitory animals migrated to mexico, neighbors lined their dwellings with lights, and took them…

{time and punishment} poem x e.l. jayne

{time and punishment} branches of the ancient pines bow gloomily, as the scarlet sunset fades into the forest. i suppose i write the story in past tense, because it’s the last thing i want to happen, but if i prepare for it, i won’t be surprised, and perhaps even suffer a little less. but also…

{fact or fiction} poem x e.l. jayne

{book lovers} floating like two inverted amber moons, a staring contest with the devil commences, isn’t it phenomenal, that we freely read sad stories? even if we knew the ending, we couldn’t restrain from reading our story, writing each chapter,  sipping tea through a lump of brown sugar, captivated by the cracks and crevices of…

{on rainy days} poem x e.l. jayne

{on rainy days} greenish mildewy panes, framed the view from my corner of the world, they could always speak like this to each other,  continuing a conversation they had not begun, let us live in the now forever, that’s what her ethereal eyes tried to express. she pressed her hand against the window, to feel…

{bookend} poem x. e.l. jayne

{bookend} it was a creamy and inevitable sunset in the same erratic, capricious climate, ragged, jagged rocks poised  an ironically sleek silhouette  atop the desert skyline, i’ve always been fond of a poetic bookend. –e.l. jayne

{nonnative novelty} poem x e.l. jayne

because if I were in a different city, everything would feel so much different…  even if all other variables remained the same,  the same isolated days, leaving quaint cafes with clothes reeking of coffee, after a day’s worth of writing in my dilapidated diary, walking home under the same despondent streetlights, consuming far too few…

{novelists} poem x e.l. jayne

{novelists} love is a novel, you and I, the authors. our hands hold the pen, writing each word, each chapter, creating our own reality, of the love story we’ve always dreamed of. –e.l. jayne