waiting on answers from the sky.

we exist in this summer haze,

days trailing into nights

we sit beneath midnight skies

painted obsidian and aubergine,

sipping on Guinness and cider

and talking about life

and love

and the ache of it all

we keep waiting on this new moon

to impart its infinite wisdom,

waiting for stories untold

to unfold amidst the stars

but there is only the echo of absence,

a silence that shakes us

so we fill it

with chatter

with chaos

we get drunk on the noise

because anything is better than this

q u i e t

because anything is better than admitting

we have no clue

what is going on

we sit in shadows cast by starlight

and wait for the sun to rise

(maybe it will share its secrets)

– ashley jane

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 their sweet goodbyes,

until they were swallowed up the sunlight

and i knew in that moment

that nothing was a waste,

all those tears and all that pain

because if it wasn’t for the shadows

i wouldn’t know the beauty of the stars

– ashley jane

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 violet magic

– 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

hope stained constellations.

shine-bright-shimmer,
a sharp cut of light ricocheting
off chandeliers of crystal ice,
we follow its warning,
shards of frosted ink
scrawled across the sky,
foreboding written out
in this holy silence
telling of how darkness still lingers
in the hallows from where we came
hope is fleeting,
but we will not turn back
the stars are our lighthouse,
and they will bring us through
– Ashley Jane