Original poetry by Juniper
We were carefree and wild—wind-loud, grass-kneed.We laughed with the wind as kids;bodies learned bark and rings,aged like a tree—but the inside stayed wide,spirit still free.Amid the hate that gathers,I wrap myself in love.Misunderstanding is a habit,not a law.Bars here are numbers—rules in rows.Factory hours rivet dreams to a line;freedom a mirage in this reality mix.Money…
A Letter to the Remembrance of Things Past Dear Ghosts of Relationships Past,I never really got the word “ex”—it always sounded so final in its permanence, like etching something in stone and walking away forever. How in one moment, two or more people can be together and the next, the room becomes full of silence…
Two trees—yours and mine— roots drinking the same dark water, branches writing different weather. I’m Aquarius, you’re Pisces: thrive meets change, silk threads crossing midair. I was cocoon-still, a rose plucked early. Pain did the work no comfort could— split the mold, let the wings think. Nights webbed me with dreams— not spiders, just sheets…
I call across the dark to the youngest among us—not to scold, to signal.Some of you hand yourselves overto the first voice that sounds certain—already alive, just buying time.It’s an occupational hazard,this not-having-a-place:no lease for your own body,no keys to your own want.You didn’t pay the rent on my expectations—good.Eviction can be freedom.You left without…
My soul does not rest in places that pretend to love me.It paces—boundless, breathless—inside a body still fightingto believe in care.Guilt’s jaws clasp shut; I am trapped,essence gnawed like prey,nothing left intact.I reach for a way out in pitch black,direction gone, power thin,no shoulder to lean on, no trust to give.My heart whispers softly—will I…
This glass isn’t life.It’s a tool that pretends to be a home—a loaded thing.Like a gun, it needs a safety.Use it, don’t live in it.We trusted it like a lifetime warranty,signed away hours without reading the clause.Now it drafts our attention,taxes our sleep,edits what feels real.We reached for knowledgeand woke cuffed to the scroll—each tap…
I woke from a long sleepinto a room where ideas floated.We could have stayed there,no clocks, no rush—breathing with the mindlike it was a second set of lungs.Color was never a compass,just a lens—and every lens tells the truthto the eye that wears it.We live inside the moment,half-hidden, half-becoming,learning the strange mercy of a pastthat…
You lit the match, and I stood in the blaze—too naïve to read the smoke as warning,too eager to feel anythingthat looked like warmth.We lay in our attic of half-kept things,TV humming its soft static snow.We tuned our energy to different channels,still far from merging,reaching across the static for some kind of signal.Your eyes clouded…