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.
New Book is LIVE.
Hi all! I'm excited to announce that my new book, The Mums are Filled with Melancholy is now live! Get your copy at amzn.to/2INF13g. Thank you to all who have offered their encouragement and kind words. I hope you enjoy it!
look how far i’ve come.
i asked you to give me space, and you gave me the most luminous night m a g i c you’ve always known how i love constellations how i search for them when i am overwhelmed in a world that is too much chaos and not enough calm and we sat there watching until they said...
never again.
you were barrooms and bedroom eyes filled with sweet nothing promises, and i swallowed down your love but couldn’t handle the burn it left me with a black heart and a mouth full of ashes and now i regret the way i let you breathe me in because your words left bullet...
purple skies are calling.
rose blush skies fading into a mauve daydream and she is on a journey between an orchid afternoon, and a lavender evening, but this hush is mulberry tangled up in aubergine, the perfect shade to unveil her latest spell — she is a moon gypsy and she speaks in shades of...
bloom.
we planted words and watered them with honey, our own little garden of love, lies and lullabies we watched them grow side - by - side we told ourselves that love would survive — it was either bloom or die (we chose to bloom) - ashley jane
i’ve been here ever since.
i dipped my toes in the promise of tomorrow, its unexplored depths calling my name i let its light filter in on shimmering strands that swore to cleanse the dirt from my hands but that ethereal glimmer didn’t have the answers so i let the dark speak, its low hum...
she sees your truth.
she belongs with the wolves of winter, a pack of restless souls bound in spirit, their gypsy hearts beating in sync with the rise and fall of a mystic moon they are truth and purity housed behind a stubborn love and piercing eyes they are the wildflower warriors, all...
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...
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...