Jitske. 23. The Netherlands. Wanderer.

Vrouw huilt op de meisjes-wc
van ‘als ie dronken is doet ie zo gemeen’
En ze zegt ‘ik huil niet om hem,
Ik weet niet waarom ik huil,
maar niet om hem’

En je denkt altijd wat doe ik hier
ze draaien nooit de liedjes die je wilt horen
Dus je drinkt veel te veel wijn
maar net niet genoeg om dronken te worden

Je gaat toch pas weg
als de anderen allang zijn vertrokken
wacht tot hij je kust onder de lantaarnpaal
zijn mond smaakt naar Marlboro
Je tranen smaken zout 
Je weet niet waarom je huilt
Maar niet om hem

Jitske Boscha ©2014

Hij had zijn zinnen gezet
rook de angst
lang voordat 
ik het doorhad. 
Hoe hij wachtte
tanden als messen 
toen kleine stukjes uit mijn dijen beet 
een beproeving
om mijn geur te wrijven langs zijn schenen.
beslissing of hij mij tot de zijne 
zou maken.

Mijn moeder zegt regen,
Regen zijn engelen die huilen
Huilen daarboven.
En ik geloof het, 
Want toen jij ging,
Regen regen regen.

Op een dag zag ik een boom
Roetzwarte barst, lichaam verkoold
Ik voelde, haar stomp ademde nog
Maar de bovenkant slechts as
En ik vroeg me af 
Vraag me af
Hoe komt je daar van terug? 
Want soms hou ik wijs mijn mond,
Omdat het voelt alsof ik vuur kan spuwen
En alles wil veranderen in as 
Rooksignalen dansen rond.

Jitske Boscha ©2014

Je drinkt je koffie zwart
Het soort waar tenen van gaan krommen.
Papieren kranten zeggen niets nieuws
Maar jij leest ze
Elke dag.
Je slaat de bladzij langzaam om 
Aan je vinger de ring van je moeder
Een gift
waar je alles voor over had
om nooit te hoeven ontvangen.

Jij bent de 8e keer 
dat ik stopte met roken.
De 3e keer 
dat ik niet thuis was
maar danste toen de zon net opkwam.
En de 5e keer 
dat ik mijn moeder teleurstelde.

Ze waarschuwde voor naalden,
Whisky en ander gif
Maar nooit voor dit.

Jitske Boscha ©2014

The wolf had his eyes on me
The first time we met
When he asked me in the softest voice
'Did you see any elephants in Asia?'
And I smiled and spent the night
Telling him about all my eastern adventures

And I liked him that night.
Cause I felt like I knew him that night.
But there were minor complications
Combined with huge imperfections
Already showing up that night
And it was never right to ignore his comments
On ‘them’ and ‘their kind of people’
Like the color of her skin could really
Be the reason why she was always late.
His stupidity now give me chills

But there are women like me.
And if they like what they see
They will nod or even agree
While tearing up the red flags waving in front of them.
Because for women like me
It’s easier to look the other way.

He wasn’t dressed in sheepsclothes
Never tricked me to believe
That he was what I would need
Not a devil in disguise I couldn’t see

Instead he was laying out for me
All the things that were wrong with me
Explaining why clumsy could never be sexy
And so I walked in shoes that hurt my feet
Never letting my guard down around him

The parting gift was a disgrace
A slap in the face
A perfect night he had to waste
But I left and took the blame
Hating him never felt so good
Because it tasted like fucking freedom.

Jitske Boscha  © 2013


You’re eyes are of the blue-est kind
But your skin is a pale shade of white 
In a world of simularity, 
you’re truelly one of a kind

Little Lou, we’ll all hold you tight,
Don’t be afraid in your endless night
When the lights are out, we are all blind 
When mama showed you the warmth of the sea 
You were crying like a litlle baby 
So much fear, so fragile and small 
The waters might swallow you if you fall 
Your demons will haunt you
But you are safe in my arms
And I’ll hold your hand when we walk down the street
When you’ll fall, I will help you back on you feet 
You would scream, you would sing
At times you didn’t seem to care about a-thing
We all had questions, but you didn’t mind. 
You couldn’t imagine what the future might look like
Lou lou, I lost my little heart to you 
You could be a shining star
But often you seemed so blue
You were so angry, but scared too
And I didn’t know what to say or what to do 
Little lou, we’ll hold you tight,
Don’t be afraid in your endless night
When the lights are out, we are all blind 
Little lou, can you picture things in your dreams?
Cause when I watch you sleep that’s always what it seems
And I wonder what we look like in your imagination
Is it a place of creation or just frustration? 

Little lou, we’ll hold you tight,
Don’t be afraid in your endless night
When the lights are out, we are all blind 

Jitske Boscha  ©2011

An ode to Lou and his father. 


His eyes are as dark as a storm 
You know, the ones who are frightening but a relieve 
To the fields of our mother, 
Our dear mother earth. 
All his storms were thankfully received. 

His voice was soft and tender 
As the one of a little schoolboy. 
Shallow, warm but painfully naive 
His words would hurt my ears
Ignorant, was all he could be 

But if you don’t know 
Then you just don’t know. 

Still small, but there’s no time to grow 
This old soul is ready to rest 
He could play around for a while 
But I’d save the best.
I always save the best.

Jitske Boscha  ©2012


Ik wol dy fertelle hoe prachtich ost bist,
Mar ik kin de wurden mar net fine,
En ik wit ek net of ik it wol sizze mat,
Ik wol dy net fuortreagje,
Mar wat ot dy moaie wurden,
Te let komme,
dasto dan ol fuort bist?

Jitske Boscha       © 2011


One night she told me the reason why her hair was so short.

She told me about her lover. How men are  afraid to break your heart. ‘See you soon’  is so much easier to say then ‘fare well’. The truth is no big deal.
He said: “please, don’t fall in love”, and so she left. She was prepared to do the heavy lifting. 
He said: “Love is hell, I just can’t bear”. “Fuck off” was her answer. 
Then she told me he used to tell her how much he hated girls with short hair. She went to the hairdresser and made him cut her long brown curly hair. When she came back she looked like Sinead o’connor. Or a cancerpatient. It’s all about perception.
17 days, 5 hours and 22 minutes later she saw him in the bar around the corner. He looked at her with disgust. 
“what happened to you?” 
“Fuck off ” was her answer. 

“Do you still think about him?” I asked intriged.
“Every day.”

Jitske Boscha ©2012


I am here but I’m not yours
I followed you around, so I could be hit by truth
I walked alone down this neon street
It seemed you were happy to see me
until she came between

There is no confusion
It just became clear to me 
no need for any more words
no explanations or complicated theories
I might have gotten you wrong
I’m still a little naive
But did you ever tell me your name was Judas? 

We never need lies
to ease our aching hearts
I don’t need another false prophet 
to try and tell me what’s right
When I knew it all from the start
I knew it all from the start.

I am here, but I’m not yours
One last drink before I close the door
In streets with drunken men, junkies and whores
I’ll be thinking about it the rest of the night, for sure

Don’t blame me for running away
I won’t be a victim of your game
You never told me your name was Judas anyway.

Jitske Boscha ©2012


The first time I saw Jade, she was wearing an old ladies dress
It was all wrinkled and dirty, but somehow she looked the best
She would hide her face behind long brown hair
But not because she was ashamed or scared 
She was only so humble, and felt so small 
just happy to be there at all.

The first time I saw Jade, she laughed like she was mad. 
And people were looking as if she was sick in the head. 
And when one boy asked her if she was even in the band
She just smiled polite, nodding her head. 
Just happy to be there
Just happy to be there 

I said I would like to be a musician like you
Jade said: but you already are,
you’re a musician too. 

The first time I saw Jade, I asked: was this your dream? 
She said the thing is once you have, it is never what it seemed. 
I don’t try to be a star, I just wanna be a singer
I don’t care about being pretty, funny or thinner
She and her friends would drink the night away 
and the next morning they would still sound great
Her life is crazy but the songs are amazing
Oh yes her life is crazy but the songs, they are amazing

You told me everything happens for a reason Jade,
then why did those people died in belgium yesterday?
You could see her confusion, quickly looking away 
stumbling on words she didn’t dare to say.
The last time I saw Jade, her eyes had turned grey
And when her smile was gone, only tears remained
My words weren’t meant to bring her down
But she sunk so low that she touched the ground. 
And when I saw her heart caving in
My heart was caving in. 
When I saw her heart caving in
I felt my heart was caving in

The first time I saw Jade was the last time I saw jade. 

Jitske Boscha  ©2012


Another morning walk
The light is blinding 
Another night I won’t remember
I drank too much again

Another wandering down the road
Trying to find my way home
Another struggle to keep on walking
Hanging my head down

Another man I didn’t really know
And probably won’t see again
Another quick fix that will not last
I should’ve known better

Another excuse for treating you so badly
It wasn’t me, it was the booze
Another reason for you to leave me alone today
I always hit the blues

Jitske Boscha  ©2013


I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited - Sylvia Plath

Every now and then when I feel I’m too self-absorbed, self-centered or just full of myself, I will read Sylvia Plath’s journals and remember there are always people who are worse. 

I do love her writing. 


I never read the books you recommended
or did any of the things you asked me to do. 
I still worry too much about future plans and strange romances
and I don’t write as often as you would’ve want me to
Cause now, there’s no need to

Nothing has really changed,
except that everything has

I’m still surrounded by people who talk about their cars,
bathroom floors and kitchen doors.
And those who want to whine about it all
It’s just that now I’m the only one not giving a fuck
Now, you are gone.

Jitske Boscha 2013



These days I wonder if people are meant to be alone

I’m sorry to say I regret  that night. I wish I could still remember
the smile you brought me, but I only feel the shame. 

Like how I needed to wash your smell of my skin. Following back every trace you left in my house, just to brush it clean. No one would ever have to know, but I told them anyway. And you told them.
I don’t think you know how self-destructive I can be.

Your name pops up on my screen, but it does not terrify me.
I’ve never cared about you, and now you don’t care about me.
I wish I could just hug you without all of the awkwardness,
but we’ve moved to fast. And now we can’t go back to day 1.

I’m not as brave as you might think.
You confuse my cold behavior with confidence, It’s weakness.
You confuse my weakness with easiness.  
I’m not easy, boy. I could strangle you with my bare hands.

Sometimes it’s too hard to say: ‘I don’t like you that way’.

Jitske Boscha - 2013


If you see me tomorrow..
Cross the street, or turn away
Walk past me like a stranger
Don’t ever call my name

Don’t come any closer
Please stay in my past
Where stories are fiction
And dreams are not build to last

Don’t tap at my window
Don’t knock on my door
That house is cold and empty now
I don’t live there anymore

I left when I saw the dark clouds
Long before the storm  came down 
And after it shattered all my windows
I was nowhere to be found 

Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of my face
When you find me in a crowd
But it’s not me, I am not there
I won’t be hanging around.

It’s only the ghost,
Of a girl you used to know
Someone  that never got her way, 
The one you left alone.

Jitske Boscha ©2014