and beautiful.
Live, don’t just survive.
99 Wrinkles
Because when she is 99 with wrinkles
and her outer appearance has shifted,
you’ll remember her in her green eyes
and the passion behind them.
Deeply Please
She was a simple soul
made up of words only written
late at night.
Who could barely ever get her hair
or makeup right.
But her outer appearance
was only a small sample
of who she really could be.
Because her heart was huge and she
loved the mess out of anyone
she cared to deeply please.
Rose Thorns
My love for you was in
the simple things like dried roses.
Moments in time that were frozen.
Although covered with thorns,
their beauty shines through.
Showing you that to get to
the best part the hard times
come too.
Books of You
Because of you I have a reason to write
that isn’t about melancholy thoughts.
You are the inspiration for my writing.
Every poem, story and plot.
You are the one I write for.
I write because of your existence.
Shades of Love
They met through shades of
oranges
and
yellows.
All the beautiful colors made them up.
The sunrise in the morning,
and the time just before dusk.
The fall leaves,
and spring flowers.
Years of colorful times
only felt like hours.
As the seasons change,
the two of them grow together.
Through the worst and the best of the
weather.
Shadows
I was the shadow you could never catch.
Always right there with you
but a step ahead.
Casting images in front of your eyes,
only to disappear when it gets dark.
2:16
My eyes always seem to wander
to the clock when the time is 2:16.
It is no coincidence at all,
because I bet it’s the same time you are
missing me.
The Worst Pain
Tell me why my heart hurts
when you are still here.
I have the learned the worst pain
I can feel is someone breaking my heart.
Because unlike when someone dies,
I still know you are out there.
Only a phone call,
or car ride away.
That’s the pain that will live inside me.
Knowing there is a chance I could have
made a change.
You’re Off
I can feel you slipping away.
The desire for me has faded from
your mind.
Your ever-present hand in mine
has turned to a phantom touch.
I miss it.
I miss how it used to be.
What did I do to make me be
the last thing on your mind?
Who is This?
I see him after all of this time
and I don’t even recognize the
5 o’clock shadowed face in front of me.
The spaces between his fingers now have replaced my hand with a lit cigarette.
His bright blue eyes I once knew are
bloodshot and dark circled.
His laugh is now masked with
a deep and repeated cough.
Who is this boy in front of me?
Not the person I thought he was.
I Belong to You
Part of me will always belong to you.
You are inside of me forever.
Running through the cells in my body.
You are the spark behind my eyes.
I don’t think I would ever be able to
fully give my heart to someone else
and maybe that isn’t fair.
But sometimes a love like ours isn’t
supposed to stop just because one
person took a different path.
Don’t Even
Don’t look at me
with the eyes that gazed at her.
Don’t talk to me
with the mouth that was locked
to her lips.
Don’t smell my perfume
with the nose that inhaled her.
Don’t come to me
when you are sick of her.
Childhood
I miss the sidewalk chalk days,
and the endless games of hide and seek.
When the last thing we wanted were the
streetlights to come on because that
meant a good day coming to an end.
I miss the days of picking dandelions until
all the heads popped off.
I miss how simple life was.
Cracked
How could a pain this deep
have no blood to show for it?
I felt ripped by the seams,
and hung out to dry.
How did this pain
have no scar from the hurt?
No visible evidence to show I was broken.
With cracks so deep they were called canyons.
Aggression
His hands,
cold and chapped,
wrapped around my wrists
like tape.
Tape that never breaks.
A grip that leaves blue marks
the color of veins.
Veins bulge as the hands
grip tighter.
No words are said.
Just hands are used.
Hands so tight.
Words eliminated.
Warm Sheets
I found comfort in you like I do in
sheets straight from the dryer.
Warm and welcoming.
When We Didn’t Know Each Other
It’s funny how at one point you barely knew
the person you love at all.
Knowing only their name and their
attractive features.
Not knowing what dreams they wanted to accomplish of what scared them most.
Then one day you are with them, sharing chapstick and celebrating each other’s accomplishments.
You have endless amounts of jokes and nicknames that have crossed borderline obscene.
It’s funny that you once tried to always look beautiful and act polite when they were around.
Now you burp in front of each other and can wake up and still exchange passionate kisses with no care if the other’s breath hints at late night Chipotle.
Hell
They say your eyes
are the doorways to
your soul.
And your eyes are
dark,
red,
and probably
just a glimpse
at the hell inside you.
Hate
No I don’t hate you,
because hate is a feeling
and I feel nothing for you.
Acknowledgements
First of all, thank you to anyone who reads my book. Whether you came across it by accident, have followed me on my journey of writing or simply were gifted it, I greatly appreciate you spending your time reading the words written on these pages.
Thank you to my family that I love so much for always being supportive so I never felt the need to be a rebellious child.
To my Grandma Du, for giving me so much of your creative genes and constantly lighting up when I talk about my writing with you.
To my best friend since the third grade,
Clare. For always being a constant soul in my life and cheering me on in every aspect, no matter how far fetched my ideas are.
To Loren, for being a large reason this book has come to life. My biggest supporter and the best person I know. My love and appreciation for you can’t even begin to be put into words.
To anyone who inspired these poems. Thank you fro giving me the ideas, the experience, and the lessons to create and make me into the person I am today.
-Jennae
About The Author
@JennaeCecelia
JennaeCecelia.com
Jeanne Cecelia was born on in St. Paul Minnesota. Expressing herself through art- writing, drawing, painting, and photography, has always been one of her strongest passions. It allows for her to share her emotions in non-traditional ways.
Jennae is well known for her poetic soul and vitality. With years of unpublished work she is excited about creating ways to further enhance her reader’s experience.
This is her first book.
Bright Minds Empty Souls Page 2