this museum isn’t open to the public.

i steep fading memories

in wildflower tea,

walk through vacant rooms

where stale air clings to my skin,

the smell of moths and medicine,

reminders

suspended above,

empty frames on amber walls

in a house filled with little more than silence

you made saying goodbye an art form,

vases full of fallen petal promises,

masterpieces inside every room,

and me, with my own private viewing

– ashley jane

we let silence get the best of us.

we are chasing time
as it echoes through us,
a lingering resonance of reminders
blooming like desperate voices
all racing and resolute
and aching to stain the world with poetry
we tumble like falling petals
beneath a frosted sun,
no sunlight shimmer,
just the dying wisps of melancholy filled mums
twisted up and hidden within the ashes,
left on the grave of all the words
we never got to say
– ashley jane