Recognizing Privilege

I think of how lucky I am just to being me

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I didn’t ask to be born but

I won the genetic lottery

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I don’t have to do much

just a little mascara, maybe some blush and now

it looks like I’m made of pixie dust

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I truly am blessed to be born in the skin I am in

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Language Barriers

Why is this how you interact with me?

Do you see me?

Do you even know me?

.

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The kind words that go unspoken

leave my heart longing

for recognition.

.

It pains me to not hear

what I know you feel.

.

.

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When you give me things

it’s not the same

as when you spend

time with me.

.

.

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I see you talking your own language-

keeping the house clean,

cooking dinner for me,

and keeping the cats alive.

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I see these things but

they are not deeply felt in my heart.

It’s because my own predisposition to love.

.

.

The way you speak to me,

of love and comfort,

of companionship and loyalty,

of trust and faith…

with actions of love,

does not resonate as well

as when spoken in my own language.

.

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But slowly I am learning yours

so I can feel love

and speak to you how you understand.

.

❤ Glitterfly Jessa

Thanks for reading!

Betrayal

I did it to myself you see,

I let my darkness grab ahold of me,

pull me under and drown me.

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Left with a soggy fucking mess

of pulled hearts and strings.

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My addictions to pain and

destruction let loose that day.

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Inside of me,

unleashed the beast,

who thinks she is wild

and indestructable but

becomes childlike

and vulnerable.

.

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The drinks take a hold of me,

and flood gate part of my brain

with sensory deprivation

and overload all at once.

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The universe expanding

and drowning

.

inside of me.

.

.

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❤ Jessa

Thanks for reading!

If you liked this please feel free to share and come follow me: here on the sidebar (or below if you’re mobile) and on medium: https://medium.com/@JessicaLDeJesus and facebook.com/hempmyheart

 

 

Depression’s Trophy Wife

Depression doesn’t always look like depression.

~you know, those standardized images of people sad and crying unable to leave bed all day…

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but the anxious thoughts of worthlessness,

the irritable grumbles that come too quick,

the desire to binge and the desire to purge,

the inability to concentrate on interesting things,

the loss of appetite,

.

the decline of emotions

typically shown as

a loss of interest in friends,

family,

food,

anything that once brought happy.

.

.

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Those are still the face of depression,

just hiding a little better.

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Thanks for reading!

If you liked this please feel free to share and come follow me: here on the sidebar (or below if you’re mobile) and on medium: https://medium.com/@JessicaLDeJesus and facebook.com/hempmyheart

❤ Jessa

love remains in a different way. (Time Capsule)

The nostalgia pains…

but I don’t wish it was the same~

 

I don’t miss me with you

or the things we used to do;

I don’t miss you or who we used to be,

 

I miss the way you used to spend time with me~

 

and I miss that familiar spot in my heart

that was first shown to you alone.

 

I feel that warm familiarity

shrinking as my new love,

my sometimes only love…

opens even more of my heart.

 

I’ve made the right choice with my heart

but it’s hard to process

when our relationship never finished it’s start.

 

I wish every relationship was

a start to finish whole lifetime.

 

Life would be much more wholesome.

 

~a song, a location, a stir in the winds

can all bring your heart back to me.

 

The moments we shared are

a perfect and precious eternity

locked in a capsule of time.

What we had was perfect…

 

would it have continued so if we never stopped?

As fate has it, probably not.

 

Alas, I’m on my new journey.

A new capsule of time

that shall allow me to explore in greater depth.

 

❤ Jessa

 

*this poem is about feeling the pang of nostalgia for what we once had and loved. when we feel nostalgia though, we do not have to act on it or even be actively missing someone. we can simply miss and long for those precious moments shared. those moments that forever remain untainted and perfect because they are an unchanging part of the past. forever locked in perfect memory.

oh to be able to re-watch my life…

Guilt-Free 

When I spend too long waiting, 

I lose inspiration. 

Too many thoughts flow all at once. 

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Poetry is like sex to me

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First thing in the morning,

before I have time to fire up my brain,

I like to fire up my heart. 

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I use my heart to control my body. 

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I can feel my fingers tingling 

with sweet sensation

of foreplay…

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Waiting,

to be used. 

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The less I think about what to do

.

the easier, better and more natural it is. 

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I find comfort in being alone in my head,

first thing in the morning especially;

It allows me time to do what I love-

Guilt Free

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Thanks for reading! If you like what you read- like, comment and follow my blog for more poetry like this 💕 Jessa

Awareness (Living Closer)

It’s interesting that now the more I am in your presence, 

the more anxiety I feel. 

It’s as if I now have more opportunity,

to fail. 

.

Living with you is a delight and a frieght,

for I sit at home and dream of ways to be ‘right’…

to be more perfect for you;

but you never asked me to change, 

did you?

.

So all this anxiety and fear in my head

comes upon me

because of my own

negative disposition

to self assessment. 

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Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed please recommend and feel free to share ❤ Jessa