there is no cure for this disease.

an elixir

like pills and nightshade,

dopamine swallowed down

with champagne,

romance and roses

sitting on broken tables,

emotional blackmail in a pretty vase

we are the vandals of our own hearts,

carefully caged in a prison

of our own creation

we are love sick

and looking for a fix

that can’t be found in a bottle

– ashley jane

rebels with a cause.

we were the rebel youth,
the explorers,
the reckless souls running into the wild
we chased adventure
restlessly
and we found beauty in the most unusual places
we believed that we could make a difference
and we still do

– ashley jane

we’re left as embers and ashes.

i spread all the remnants of you

out on the table,

a pile of memorabilia from another life,

years of photos and letters

scattered within

a tangle of wasted breaths

and words unspoken

ink-stained moments

are all that’s left

of a love that once

burned through the night

– ashley jane

we rise on haunted nights.

ghostly whispers move

under a voodoo blood moon,

a slow-shimmer-slink

of air over bone,

their dark love calling us home,

cosmic cadavers

with claws that sink deep,

burning nerves

and setting veins on fire

we stand on the cusp of shadows,

slowly disappearing into the ether,

our souls chained to a sinking sun

– ashley jane

now, we burn bright too.

we wrote letters to the sun,

heartache and poetry

filled with confessions,

stories and reasons

for why we felt too deeply

and fell too quickly

we were dragon hearts and dandelion fuzz,

graceful power and a shimmer of softness

all beautifully broken

and bound within the stars

– ashley jane

i’ll show you how the ocean cleanses the soul.

i saw you

cast your cares into turquoise seas,

watched you fumble

with these glass emotions

until they became stars in an amethyst sky

i already know where you go when you hide

and how you swallow down words

until only silence remains,

abandoned breaths still calling your name

let me breathe your secrets

i want to taste the pain you keep

buried beneath your skin

– ashley jane

the tired and tumultuous.

we’re caught out of orbit,

swept up in this

downpour of

d e s t r u c t i o n

(can you taste the chaos)

we are

itchy fingers on a

quick-trigger-hand-grenade,

minds dancing with delight

at the cold, dark danger,

mouths filled with yesterday’s ghosts

isn’t it

masterful,

the way madness

befalls the weary

– ashley jane

this love is more than hallmark cards.

i don’t celebrate

v a l e n t i n e ‘ s day

it’s all overpriced roses

and cards filled with words

that should be said

every

damn

day

i don’t celebrate

commercialized love

and boxed chocolates

(i always choose the gross ones anyway)

i don’t celebrate

pretty heart shaped things

or expensive stuffed animals

(nothing can replace

the crook of your neck

or the brush of your hands)

i don’t celebrate

v a l e n t i n e ‘ s day

but, i celebrate you and me

and every single day

where i get to call you mine

– ashley jane

garden of heartache.

wilted,

like funeral roses,

black and crumbling

from the weight of your ghost

they sit in stagnant denial,

thoughts swirling

and dreams drowning

in their desolation,

petals plucked

and seeds strewn

perhaps,

they’ll create

a garden of heartache

for all the lonely people

to water

– ashley jane