It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.
hidden things.
everyone has secrets hers are buried in fields where buttercups weep because the sun hasn’t graced their faces in far too long everyone has stories hers bloom along the lonely river, beside the winding road, on a path of stardust lined in daisies and dandelions...
you were never good with truth.
this distance tastes like crimson and clover, like whiskey on the rocks, like m e m o r i e s i swallow them down, waiting underneath the stars, tethered to your deception, to empty promises and elusive dreams, to illusions of love that were only skin deep i stand...
daylight is for devils too.
your voice is seared into my mind, the shrill sound like when angels scream and devils dance and it is one decibel away from u n b e a r a b l e it calls from within, challenging my last stand against you, and every damn word tastes like poison i can still see your...
mookaite.
my spirit pronounces power ‘i wander, i wonder, i wish’ i am a poet falling endlessly, following a tangled trail of time into the beauty of the ethnosphere - ashley jane (Inspired by the mookaite healing crystal)
i am under her spell.
i watched her waking from hibernation, neither ghost nor girl but hovering somewhere in between, a born wildflower drifting so i taught her to dance in rays of sunlight, to run beneath the rain and now, she is anointed with energy, illuminated from within she goes up...
dip-dyed prose for darkened skies.
messages transported by a knot of sparrows across the spectrum of colors we ride on the backs of a birdsong and melt into the fire of tomorrow, souls ablaze in the flashpoint of the words we were too afraid to share we’re crossing lines and time zones as they swim...
things i can’t throw away.
letters, folded up in intricate patterns, once passed between outstretched hands, an old mixed tape filled with 90s hits, photos, partially burned but saved at the last minute, a lucky rabbit’s foot that, looking back, really wasn’t all that lucky memories tucked in a...
we’ll all revel in the blaze
i watched her rise from the ashes you left her in dressed in golden stars, adornments plucked from the heavens she wears them like war paint, a firewalker fueled by the power of a thousand suns, a heat aching to ignite — i call her phoenix and one day, she’ll burn...
there is power in embracing the change.
the night howls and the daylight fades, nature sweeps us up in a million shades and i am hypnotized by falling leaves, captivated by their color — green-yellow-caramel fueillemort we were taught this is evidence of death, but i find life in their evolution, i see...
symbiotic sadness.
the mountains roar your name and the trees... the trees sing of you and i stand under sobbing skies waiting for answers that the clouds can not provide — it appears we are all in mourning - ashley jane