I Have Thought…

“I cannot explain it”, she said…

“Well, not everyone can do it… Not nearly everyone…” He continued, “I mean, its been over four years, since you’ve done it, and you just pick up your pen, and it spills out… All falling into place, as if you never, ever, stopped.”

He pauses for a moment to attempt to better understand, what it is exactly, that even he, himself, is defining for her at this very moment…

He continues…

“It has rhythm. It makes sense. Its pretty… Mostly… And sad too… But that’s how anyone who takes the time to absorb it, each word you seem to carelessly select, yet each word seems to fit, so perfectly, it often leaves your readers speechless… Intimidated to even try to speak upon what you’ve written… Because… Its good… Its real… I can feel it.”

He finishes his thought as he shyly looks over towards her…

She is sitting cross-legged by the window, tying a few strands of her hair into knots… Over and over again…

He cant help but to notice, as he can feel her present emotion so thick… Almost suffocating him as he shifts, sitting with the discomfort of her very real and undeniably raw sense of feeling, hanging in the room, like heavy drapes on big glass windows built on the front side of an enormous estate… The kind you drive by as a child, riding in the back seat of your parents car as a child… Thinking it must be like a museum inside… Intimidating in thoughts of being homelike… And not too comfortable either… But you still have wild, childlike fantasies of what it must be like… To be a part of a family that lives in one of those enormous, fancy and unrealistic estates that are actually considered a real ‘home’ to some people…

She was real…

And she was raw…

Always so open, like a book or a magazine…

He often wished he could communicate his life like she could… So open… So real… Captivating others like he has seen her do… More than a time or two…

“I cant explain it… I just pick up my pen and I let everything else go… I brush all the dirt from my mind… The tragic loss and deep pain too… I let go… And I just write… Its as if my soul is speaking… Yes, my soul, it is as if it’s dancing across the paper with words as its partner… Except its my prose that renders itself across the paper… And I don’t even know what I’m writing at the moment of first transcription… I truly don’t” she trails off, rather shyly…

He enjoys her shy smile as usual… Chosing not to interrupt her, as he most often does… hoping for a glance of her when shes feeling overly open and exposed… vulnerability is sweet on her and he likes it… more every time he witnesses it…

“Why now?” He asks, anticipating her response… Not having a clue what her answer could be… She is spectacular at presenting that moment revealing her element of surprise…

“Why now, after four, long, and may I say, four unbelievable years it has been for you… Since you wrote last… So, why, now… What is the significance of this time, right here, right now”, he asks her…

She is deep within her thought process… Deep in her deep mind… He can visibly see her soul at work… Pulling the perfect verbal response…

And after a few moments, she looks up to him and says, “Four years?”

“What is this ‘four years’ you keep pressing me about!?” She continues…

“Yes, I do believe, that I am ready, to speak on some things that my soul has been pushing for quite some time now…”

She pauses…

And she breathes deep…

Then with curious and lost eyes, she looks at him and says;

“But who are you? How do you speak to know so much on me! We’ve only just met!……”


I have some things to write about. And after all this, in due time, it is now… That I, finally come back up for air… To write about these things that I, have seen with my own eyes… Felt with my own hands… Heard with my own ears and tasted in everything that followed them…

I have thought.

It is time to speak.

…to be continued…



Tryst Publication


When I’m Alone

When I’m Alone
When everyone has gone
I’m in the presence of just me
My spirit and I play games
We argue with what we see
There is no outside noise
No chatter from other voices
But my mind is loud as always
Battling all my life’s choices
I go back and forth
From good to bad to everything
In the space in between
Living inside of nightmarish dreams
My angels are strong
Standing up to my devils everyday
Good fighting evil
Consuming my soul in every way
When I am alone
I’m not really alone at all
I’m stuck with my mind
Inside self prison made walls
Daily I think
In memory of my innocence
My own reflection reminding
Of my spirits remembrance
The years have slowly taken
The person I was born to be
When I am alone
I am haunted by me
~ J. Lefever ~
 ©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication

Rescue Me

This Piece is dedicated to my wonderful friend, a rare and beautiful soul… she is a reason to believe that there are true and wonderful people in the world… Our friendship could not have been forced, or faked, or created any other way… except the way that it did… naturally, truthfully & for a beautiful reason. Our similarities are a wonderful gift, and our differences complement nicely. I look forward to tomorrow, having a friend like Hastywords.

This poem is just for her


Rescue Me

Here you are

A light come forth to shine

A force of which

I only entertained existed

The hopeful desire

That others like me

Much to the same sensitivity

You are tender with the world

Beautiful soul

I feed on your light

Comfort me

With your warm, gentle voice

Proving to me

To the world we know

That angels walk upon us

Where ever we go

Here you are

My own friend and savior

A lyrical dance

As you put me at ease

Please tell me

That I am saving you too

From the things that you need

An emptiness I fill in you

Light we share

It grows between us

Sharing soulshine

The building of trust

This very evening

You put me at ease

You lifted me up

When I had fallen to my knees

Here you are

I am here for you too

I honor our tryst

In all that I do

~J. Lefever~


This piece is written for a very dear friend. Someone who has given me hope that there are gentle souls still present to this day. The world can make us, turn cold to others, but then… out of no where… a light comes along, and for whatever the wonderous, giving reason, we have been given a true friend.

Thank you for being you.

 ©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication

Battered Wings ~ Tryst Fiction

Five Sentence Fiction ~ Tryst Fiction


Battered Wings

Tattered and torn, she still carries her wings.

She has been battered and bruised watching over me.

The task has not been easy, as I have lived a dangerous life.

She was given a girl who chose the darkest roads.

Yet, she has watched over her, guiding her home with light every night.


This piece is done for Lillie McFerrin

Five Sentence Fiction – Angles


What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

This week: ANGLES


 ©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication

My Velvet Angel

A Piece from 2 Poets

Hastywords & Think. Speak. Tryst


My Velvet Angel

I watched you walk

Into the darkness of the room

You were dressed in black velvet

Cloaked head to toe

I knew you came to play

But your game, I do not know

Hidden within the quiet

I looked for you in desperate earnest

The velvet of your black garb

Absorbed every happiness

Leaving me solemn and in distress

Look into my eyes

Can’t you see me needing you

Standing here, vulnerable, it’s true

Take my hand & lead the way

I am desperately needing you

I used to fear the dark

And what I found inside it

The silence so unbearable

Until you came into it

Find me in this place and save me

The costume of your character

Only hides your true shining light

Once fear in darkness

Turns to brighter days

You are my muse in the games we play

I can feel you reaching in the dark

Your hands find me and I open my eyes

Your dress has turned a glittery bright

And your hair a blinding white

Finally, my angel came to find me

A Poetic Duet written by Miss Hasty & Miss Tryst

My friend, my parallel heart, my angel in many ways… there really are angels among us…

©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication

Fallen from Grace

Like the road less travelled, it’s the one I chose

The one others feared, the troubled path, as everyone knows.

And one that road, I saw many things,

I saw broken angels with blood on their wings…

Now at first I thought and I knew this was wrong,

Yet somehow, someway, I was unfaithful to my own song.

‘Cause deep in my spirit, inside the temple of my heart,

I know it is wrong, to break your own wisdom’s apart…

So little ol me pushed forward on this path,

Enduring all the afflictions of my self chosen wrath.

Tired, weak, dirt & tear stricken face,

It was then I did realize that I had fallen from grace.

And in this moment, I said to myself

Girl get off this road, and ask for some help…

I never could ask for help ’cause of pride,

but pride was fake, in me, just a place to hide…

So I stood up tall and ran till I saw blue,

In the heaven above… is where I first saw you.

At first I couldn’t accept, I didn’t quite understand…

But there you were, holding out your hand.

I fell to your feet, telling of all that I’ve done…

I’ve lied, I’ve stole, I’ve used & I’ve run!

From them, from you, from all of me,

To now, you see, I’m begging to be free.

Yes I chose a destructive path, with no clue of its aftermath.

I did what I thought to make it through,

Only to fall here, in front of you.

With dirt, and guilt, and shame on my hands,

Tell me my savior, what are your demands?

I hate myself, I’ve fallen from grace,

How do I fix my life of mistakes?

…Hush now hush, humbled baby girl…

Can’t you see through truth, you’re changing your world…

You’ve made it this far, spirit fallen from grace,

You walked that road, and you own your mistakes.

Now you look to see the sky is blue,

your life now awaits…

It’s time to be you.

~ Jen


I wrote this piece on 4/13/2012, inside a women’s prison just outside of St. Louis.  I can still remember what I was feeling and all the changes I was going through when I wrote this in April.  So many things went through my mind and soul inside that prison.  I had so much time to think, and write, and that I did… Lots of thinking and writing…

So much in my life has changed since I wrote this piece.  My life has circled back around to where I once was before all my sabotage in 2010 & 2011, and I’ve even grown further since then.  I am honestly grateful for the things I have gone through because I have been given the chance to start over, practice forgiveness within myself & with others, and use my experiences to be more aware, more wise, and grateful for the life that I have been given.  See, it’s all about choice.  I have the choice to choose…

As I write this, it’s not at all to give the impression or send the message that I have it all figured out.  I don’t and as I continue to live, I’ll always be trying to figure things out.  What I am saying, is that I made it through a real tough time, and I came out on the other side more wise than I was before.  And for that, I am very grateful.  Thanks for reading 🙂

~ Jen