Jenna Jones Poems

Pretty girls with sad, sad eyes.
Pretty girls with too thin wrists and itsy bitsy waists.

Tiny whispers saying “I’m okay” “I’m okay”.
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I don’t want to fall in love, I want to crash.

I want it to be passionate, wild even.
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It was in the summer when I saw him for the first time, sparks flew and in that moment I knew I had fallen beyond return.

His lips tasted like cigarettes and the promise of heartbreak but I didn't care, we were without any worries, young and free.
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