Daunting Nights

She pricked her finger on the spindle of your thorns,
fell prisoner to your irascible temper and lying eyes,
the jewel in your own vainglorious crown,
locked up behind the rage of daunting nights
She felt you reach out for her to hold your mad hands
as if to save her from this soul numbing ache,
but there was no hope for resurrection,
no rescue from the shadows of an inevitable fate
She is a darkling left bereft with no more goodbyes,
left drowning in your poisoned petals of madness and spite

words by Ashley Jane©️

art by Glam Beckett


my heart gets just as fixated as my mind these days,

each pulse feeding into some chronic compulsion

to run, to run, to run away

darkness betrays, shadows threaten to exsanguinate

(your name tastes bitter in my blood)

and I’m clinging to anything that feels like healing

to the something that trembles like a flower within me,

a sparkle that lingers while petals unfold,

this lifegiver beats vengeance and wakens the soul

Words by Ashley Jane©️

Art via We Heart It

we cut the rope made of daisy chains,

exhaled the barbed fear thorns in our way

we were drowning in a deluge of doubt,

clamoring towards the surface,

struggling to find a way out

but, these flowers are breaking

like waves against our skin,

a cleansing rush of soft petals and promises

allowing us to inhale forgiveness in

now our blossoming hearts can be whole again

Words: Ashley Jane ©️

Art by littledoodlebook via Instagram ©️



I rage like Summer, channeling the beast within,
this heat of mine fires scorching words
I need you hear my pain and feel my hurt
I want you watch when these bridges burn

I am a winter soul who soaks up the cold,
standing alone and waiting on the coming freeze
I am inside, looking out at the abandoned trees
that closely the resemble the forest inside of me

I rise like Spring, eager for change,
my over-thinking mind so quick to race,
beauty blooming in moments of clarity
when strengths are used for charity

I am an Autumn heart and you say it feels like home
despite the chill that rests within my bones
I am a whisper that lingers in the falling leaves
sweet nothings floating in your company

Breath of Words © 11/7/17

Our Story


this is our story,
the tangled tale we weave,
twisted with sweet subtlety
and you tell it,
oh so beautifully

the words spill,
you turning the ordinary
into the divine,
your patient hands
walking through mine
(please, please, tell me more)

I’ve memorized the details,
woven moments of taste and smell
that still linger,
hanging in the air,
carefully placed there
with old photographs
and recent delights,
our poem ongoing,
no where near complete
(but please, tell it again for me)

 Breath of Words© 10/21/17


I get tired of the bad days,

the aching days,

the days where it’s tough to get out of bed

My friend calls them the “too many spoons” days

The weather changes and I’m lost again

I can see it coming, but like a train,

I can’t stop it

So, I get grumpy

and I get snippy and sad and overwhelmed
But, I have my words still

so that’s something, right?

Breath of Words © 10/19/17


I was recently tagged on Instagram for #showmeyourhuman – human being the real side of you, no matter how flawed you may be.

Here’s mine:

I’m a southern girl, though sometimes I don’t claim it. I think I left pieces of my heart in D.C., and the city girl inside me still mourns the loss of that place.

Sometimes, I’m too blunt. Too vocal. Too insistent on being right. My mother says I was born prepared to make others listen. To dance outside the lines. To do things my own way, damn the consequences. Most days, she’s right.

I don’t really know how to make small mistakes. Only big ones. But, I’m lucky to have friends that get me, put up with me, and love me regardless.

I say I don’t like people, but I’m the first to step up and offer help. Especially to those who try to push me away.

I love concerts and hate crowds.

I don’t wear make-up, mostly because I suck at applying it.

I prefer my hair in some weird color.

I’m definitely out of shape.

I have lupus, and some days are worse than others. But, I’m still here, so I don’t complain too much.

I’m messy and OCD at the same time.

I write because it keeps me sane in a crazy world.

I’m far from perfect. But, I’m doing the best I can, and that’s all that matters.

💜 Ashley Jane 10/3/17




There is something true about the sun,
something honest in the way it rises and sets,
as if it knows we need a little light to guide us,
but also understands that we’re a little dark too

I remember in college,
on those early mornings after nights I couldn’t sleep,
I’d sit on the balcony,
watching the leaves change color
They always seemed so vibrant
in the dawn’s glow

And, in grad school, that night I sat beside you
taking in the city skyline as the day faded away,
orange and pink skies drinking in the moonlight
until only the star-studded black remained

There is a certain peace
in knowing that
I’m never watching the it alone
Somewhere, someone else is captivated,
soul bound to sky
and the sun
and each other

Breath of Words© 10/2/17

photo: J. Spann



my heart hurts
that our streets are filled
with a quiet sense of dread
I watch hope dying while fears are fed
and people that I thought I knew
just wash their hands and walk away
or buy into the promises made,
the broken oaths
laced with fables and lies,
no evidence of doing what’s just or right

my heart hurts
that our homes are filled
with anger and division and pain,
that we still have to talk about gender and race
because we aren’t all treated the same
and that’s not okay

my heart hurts
for the lost things, lost lives, lost loves,
for the childhood homes washed out to sea,
that all people have left are memories,
and still, some hesitate to help,
too concerned with themselves

my heart hurts
because we continue to pull apart
instead of pushing together

my heart hurts
because we are better than this

we have to be better than this

Breath of Words© 10/3/17

art: Crystal Lake



we are seekers

of truth,

of passion,

of divine retribution

we find it in the words

that sing within our souls,

create poems that pour out

and make us whole

we are meant to be read,



we are untethered beauty,

unchained magic

that only a few

will understand


National Poetry Day

Ashley Jane© 9/28/17

art by HinnyDesign