Words Rooted In Pain, Love & Light

Words by Jocelyn B.

[emotionallylaboredwords]

I started writing again in order to start living again. The words ran from my fingers like my tears to the river of forbidden happiness and love. The stench of pain could no longer withstand. It was reeking, screaming, clawing to be let the fuck out. So I started writing again to live and not be a victim to his words.

-Jocelyn B.

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“Grief is an indication that one’s heart has experienced unconditional love.”

-Jocelyn B.

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B: based on the

L: longevity of our

A: aesthetic often desired, admired, and

C: copied by the society that has historically tried to

K: kick us when we were down we have continued to

P: progress in ways that don’t always seem

R: realistic and believable

I: in alignment with the

D: definition of those same individuals that admire, but also

E: envy everything about our aesthetic

-Jocelyn B.

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The fullness of our lips should become acquainted.

The fullness of our lips connected would create a sense of euphoria.

-Jocelyn B.

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“I’ll endure the pain of getting another tattoo before I get another lover.”

-Jocelyn B.

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G.R.O.W.T.H

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I dreamed I kissed your lips. In my conscious mind I knew you kissed lips the same as yours. The attraction was covert, producing internalized feelings of confusions and embarrassment. I suspected feelings of confusion were also familiar to you. Maybe my presence was the solace for your confusion. Maybe my presence was a representation of the norm to those who know you. Maybe my presence only existed in the same dream I kissed your lips in.

-Jocelyn B.

[emotionallylaboredwords]

I’m not writing to feel. I’m not writing to heal. I’m not writing to be a creative. I’m writing to live.

-Jocelyn B.

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You are an enigma. I try to decipher what is probably already known. The perplexity of your eyes. The mystification of your being. It’s all a conundrum I should probably abort. How can I realistically convey the unfavorable truth to my core? Disconnect, deny, delay, dilute the uncomfortable knowing of you, who’s truly not an enigma at all.

-Jocelyn B.

[emotionallylaboredwords]

The problem is I’ve probably been in love too many times to count. I don’t know what’s worst, being an idealistic or hopeless romantic.

-Jocelyn B.

[emotionallylaboredwords]

A Thought on Love

Two years later and I don’t know what’s worst. To not love at all or to fall out of love? I didn’t rise in love, I drowned in it. I shed my skin for love, exposing all my fucking scars. The scars I thought your love would heal. The scars I thought your love would kiss and make love to. The scars I thought love would hide. I don’t know what’s worst. To once love or to never want to love again?

-Jocelyn B.

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A Thought on Love

One of my biggest sorrows has been falling out of love with you.

-Jocelyn B.

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A Thought on Love

Our love is dead. Once this tragedy is over I hope we can return to the way we were.

-Jocelyn B.

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Untitled #18

If I had to do it all over again, I would love you. I would love deeply with all the fibers of my being. I would love you more than all the words ever written about love. My heart would never break because your love is the armor. Your love is my safe place besides the thoughts of my mind. Your love heals and transforms the terrors of my past. Your love transcends the fickle love I once knew. And I would love you. More than the vibration when the oceans meets the sea. And I would love you. More than a child unaware of the inequities of the world, with the ability to love freely. I would you more than the unknown. And I would love you. 

-Jocelyn B.

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My desire for love is driving me mad. Sucking the life out of me. Now I understand why my mother never taught me about heartbreak.

-Jocelyn B.

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"Sometimes I want companionship so bad I hurt.”

it's been a while.

-Jocelyn B.

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Red

I meet a woman the other day. She called herself "Red," but there was nothing red about her. Nothing blue or brown or purple for that matter. I asked with an anxious curiosity, "why do you call yourself that?" She replied "Red is all I have." She described "Red" as a state of being. She lost her love, ability to think and willingness to dream. She was stripped of her birth rights. She was exhausted due to the men of her kind always taking and never giving. She prayed and cursed God at the same time. Red told me she had nothing left to give. She was "Red" down to the bones that once held together a woman full hope. Red was my grandmother, mother and all the women I've ever known. Simultaneously, Red was me.

-Jocelyn B.