maybe.

i craved the open road,

the quiet peace that comes

with being alone,

copper sun shining

on a burning horizon,

the highway sound carried

like whispers on the wind

i wanted to travel the world,

my heart much too big

for this small place

we would climb to the roof

and watch the dark drink in the day

we would make wishes

on moonless nights,

promises that we would escape

i was always one step away

from losing my mind

in this place

but i think i always knew

that you would stay

and you always hoped i would too

we spent our youth

in this back and forth,

but you soon realized

that my running was inevitable

i suppose,

i always assumed

that you’d still be here,

a beacon of light

guiding my eventual return

but as the years pass,

the light fades

the room gathers cobwebs

the photos are covered in dust

now, we simply

leave a candle burning,

a little light in the hallway

of this museum of memories

filled with all the bits and pieces

of a past we left behind

maybe one day

i’ll clean the place up

maybe one day

i’ll make this house

into a home

– ashley jane

we make do.

we eat worry

with yesterday’s leftovers,

anxiousness swallowed down

with a bit of bread

that we bought with loose change

found between seat cushions

years of empty pockets

have left us accustomed

to its stale taste

it will be another long day today

the poems will have to wait

there is rarely time for writing anymore

if we aren’t working

our time is stolen by daily chores

and doctor appointments

on the rarer days,

when the quiet greets us,

our minds are still consumed

with this sense of foreboding

we can’t seem to escape

it’s rather suffocating,

always falling short of thriving

most days, we’re barely surviving

our wallets are paper thin

and the coffers are empty

our hearts are full though,

and i suppose

that makes us richer than most

– ashley jane

we are poetry.

words sit thick

like cotton on the tongue

waiting to be spun

into a dress of pretty prose

for strangers to wear,

letters and lace to drape

across the shoulders of people

we will never meet,

soul stories told by hands

that hold tendrils of magic

we move between moments,

insomnia written into our bones

because sleep cannot make a home

in minds that do not rest,

in bodies composed

of air and water and hope and pain

we breathe wreckage and desire,

and we are not afraid of either

because we carry the blood

of vikings and warriors in our veins

our hearts wear a shield

made of woven strength

we are resilient

we are infinite

we are poetry

– ashley jane

waiting on answers from the sky.

we exist in this summer haze,

days trailing into nights

we sit beneath midnight skies

painted obsidian and aubergine,

sipping on Guinness and cider

and talking about life

and love

and the ache of it all

we keep waiting on this new moon

to impart its infinite wisdom,

waiting for stories untold

to unfold amidst the stars

but there is only the echo of absence,

a silence that shakes us

so we fill it

with chatter

with chaos

we get drunk on the noise

because anything is better than this

q u i e t

because anything is better than admitting

we have no clue

what is going on

we sit in shadows cast by starlight

and wait for the sun to rise

(maybe it will share its secrets)

– ashley jane

road trip runaways.

the sunlight burns in our rear view mirror,

a canopy of flames following close behind

we say goodbye to the bittersweet glow,

our bodies exhausted from chasing

too many unending horizons,

brutal and beautiful and beckoning

nights and days blending together,

moonrise – twilight – ethereal dawn,

each one feeding into the next

like a record on repeat

the highway bends like wisteria vines

and we just drive,

this feeling in our chest pushing us on,

demanding that we

run

explore

escape

anything to remove this ache in our veins,

anything to feed the wild in our hearts

– ashley jane

sunrise.

i stood beneath a shivering sunset,
wrapped in the soft brutality of its fading light
i listened to the night life heralding the coming stars,
and i remembered all the wishes we’d made
from cold balconies on lonely evenings,
all the promises that were whispered
even though we knew they’d go unkept
we were always experts at predicting endings,
yet somehow,
we couldn’t foresee our own
i stayed there until morning,
on the balcony,
without you this time,
and i watched a peek of color
paint the cityscape in shades of day,
and it was if i were seeing dawn for the first time
i suppose i spent so many sunsets with you
that i’d never noticed how beautiful
sunrises could be

– ashley jane

bliss.

i wake on sheets
as soft as flower petals,
tulips and tiger lilies
pressed against bare skin
the day tastes like
orange blossom and amaretto,
sunbrushed summer
exploding on my tongue
and there is no waiting for love
see,
i prayed for heaven,
and it was delivered,
all warm skin and familiar eyes
and i
am high on the type of serene
that can’t be found in a bottle,
a moonstruck mellow only found
under midnight silver skies
painted by hands that speak
the language of devotion
and together,
we dance under a rain of poetry,
the clouds spilling sonnets
of two lovers
kissed by an ethereal grace
– ashley jane

sunset to sunrise.

i stood beneath a shivering sunset,

wrapped in the soft brutality of its fading light

i listened to the night life heralding the coming stars,

and i remembered all the wishes we’d made

from cold balconies on lonely evenings,

all the promises that were whispered

even though we knew they’d go unkept

we were always experts at predicting endings,

yet somehow,

we couldn’t foresee our own

i stayed there until morning,

on the balcony,

without you this time,

and i watched a peek of color

paint the cityscape in shades of day,

and it was if i were seeing dawn for the first time

i suppose i spent so many sunsets with you

that i’d never noticed how beautiful

sunrises could be

– ashley jane

i live in the lyrics.

it’s funny,
the things remembered most
too often,
i exist in a dream-like state,
pictures flooding in
because some song on the radio
insisted that i hadn’t reminisced 
in far too long
like, the way hank williams songs
remind me of learning to drive
a stick shift
in the pasture behind
my great grandparent’s house
or how when incubus plays
i’m taken back to that night
in the biting wind
when we stood against the stage
and sang our hearts out
to every song
or like whenever
strawberry wine
comes on the radio,
i suddenly find myself
under coral skies,
moments falling like petals
from dandelions
memories echo in every line
and i get lost in the 
every single time
– ashley jane

moon child.

they call her moon child,

the girl with a midnight soul

and an anxious heart

she listens to their soft hum music

as they sing songs to the forest trees

about all her phases,

the way she moves between

new moon voodoo and full moon magic,

the way she knows all your secrets,

holding them in the folds and creases

of shadows that grace her surface,

the way she fades from sight

just long enough for you to miss her

they immortalize her in lyrics,

writing them into constellations

and spreading them across the sky