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.
i am journal of lost secrets buried too deep for you to reach.
some people prefer to stay on land. never searching below the superficial surface. they look just long enough to find their own reflection, to turn your story into theirs, to make themselves the focus. now me, i want conversations that can only be found in the depths....
Book Review – Black Hearts, Bullet Wounds and Barrooms by Stein and Roberts
Black Hearts, Bullet Wounds and Barrooms by Ruby Stein and Angeline Roberts I can't tell you how happy I was to finally sit down and read this book. Black Hearts, Bullet Wounds and Barrooms is volume one of an anthology written by two ladies whose melancholy matches...
i am swallowed up by the silence.
i dreamed that these red seas were made of pretty poppy petals, that i was sinking into warm memories instead of drowning in the starving quiet your absence left behind -ashley jane
silly, stupid hearts.
hearts can be such pretty fools, always courting madness and trying to make a home in a b a n d o n e d spaces filled with unloved bones -ashley jane
i am filled with the forgetting.
you sent me winter roses, a bouquet of dying petals and dried november leaves i cut myself on the thorns now i am bleeding violet in a world of gray still, thorns don’t hurt the way words do, and there is no sting as sharp as the one delivered by your riposte tongue...
pieskos.
we sit around the fire, our bodies soaking up the heat we are grateful hearts entwined with a warm and wild grace that blooms deep within our souls -ashley jane
Book Review – All the Things I Never Said by Mae Krell
I go through periods with poetry. Sometimes, I want deep insight, others I want that simple line that reaches out. In All The Things I Never Said, Mae Krell has points where she delivers both. When this book was published, Krell was only fourteen. Some have criticized...
we are not alone.
hope lives here in the still reflection of these flood waters, oceans of poetry bathed in the golden light of all of our collective suns (we are not alone) -ashley jane
she is courage and strength.
she’s like the wind, elusive, impossible to contain, a wild soul raised by wolves do you see her? there is fire in her eyes, and magic runs through her veins ashley jane
this is all that’s left.
the trees are dressed in winter, abandoned pieces left behind, fine spider lace and skeleton leaves and something heavy hanging in the air quickly comes the night its silent embrace feels too much like your own, leaving me to crave not the warmth, but your bitter...