{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

{cognizance} poem x e.l. jayne

{cognizance} can someone explain how to find peace, while retaining cognizance? perhaps I care too much about life, to put aside all of its externalities, that exist even if they’re not at the forefront right now. again with the tangential… I digress. maybe it was never really that fragile in the first place, like a…

{untitled poem xiv} x e.l. jayne

{untitled poem xiv} and don’t blame me  for wanting to be hopelessly in love because love is the only thing  we can truly curate in our lives.

{untitled poem xiii} x e.l. jayne

i hurry up and finish my civilian duties for the day so i can sit on this barren hardwood floor,  drink red wine,  and compose poetry, which is, in fact, my greatest contribution as a civilian. –e.l. jayne

{vagabond beings} poem x e.l. jayne

{vagabond beings} as the sunset melts into the great salt lake, i lean my back against the mountain, watching planes take off, one by one. i felt time dividing, then i realized, one might just be the one you’re on. no one understands nomadic romanticism better, we are forever wayfaring souls, mortals meant to meet…

{souvenir} poem x e.l. jayne

{souvenir} zooming out i can see clearly, which role i cast you to play, and indeed you played it well, the rarities you represented about me, to not return home empty handed, like a souvenir but better. a good drama always has a heart wrenching last act, to let you know it’s over, there’s no…

{hurricane} poem x e.l. jayne

{hurricane} like a light, steady rain,  the feelings still remain, but they don’t overwhelm me anymore. –e.l. jayne

{charred remains} poem x e.l. jayne

{charred remains} because no matter how beautiful a forest grows, the aftermath of a forest fire only shows the charred remains of a past life. –e.l. jayne

{paradise lost} poem x e.l. jayne

pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere, or wine, whichever is more readily available. when people say they understand me, it makes me grieve… despite trying to conceal my soul, they think they can identify with me. great drama, rich color, and deep shadows, however much I belong, in my soul, to the Romantics,  I…

{seafaring ode} poem x e.l. jayne

{seafaring ode} i once read, a poem that grew to be my favorite: ‘it’s not the ship but our own selves that we miss’ and that explained my heartbreak perfectly. starving for something unavailable, something i couldn’t find in myself, so my voyage carries on,  caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, as…