poetry by ashley

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
She got me praying all hours of the night, say she want my heart, She pulling me to the river, drawing me with her siren's call, Done gave her my heart but now she wants my soul, Well I already sold it to the man in red, "Fell in love with your charm," but its a curse; cos am dead, Girl you're not who you say, bad girl they say you are Innocence isn't where am at, wear your crucifix bae Don't make me out all serious bonnie, slave to this bad religion, Unrequited love, praying at my shrine, cos I don't have a heart Like a dead man walking, I lay at your side, Make sure you're alright in my world, atleast that for you girl,

I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul

Poe junkie

The cold of London is forgotten in the glow of a lighter,
It is all you do to kill the grey,
Numb at the tips and you flick it right up,
And a dead man they say,
as you get High another day,
Just a drag to a smile, its chocolate.

Just a dab you use it,
Get high to get calm,
Paranoia but you do it,
Sweet lies its all like chocolate

You and your friends call it chocolate,
The lyrics of the song called it fate,
Roll up and strum the strings, chocolate to forget,
Dead inside and sad soaked futile hate,
You bite her lips, taste like wine and chocolate,
You call it chocolate, just a lie; you dead?

Your lungs they take it in like a friend,
Your heart breaks again, remember why you like it?
She broke your heart so you broke your head,
Bent with drags of chocolate, loved her but she didn’t know,
Bite your lips, light it up and inhale your fate

Inspired by the 1975 chocolate and my own addiction and self destruction
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.

“I Am a Nasty Woman,” Nina Donovan, recited by Ashley Judd

The Thing About Never Being Loved

Here’s the thing about first-time lovers,
they don’t know what the hell they’re doing.
And never-time lovers know everything and have
no one to practice on.
We suck down our cardboard throats
and beg god that isn’t how we end.

The hardest part of never being loved isn’t
knowing what we are missing out on
or fearing that we always will.  
It’s finding it like a slap in the face and
defining every piece we’ve ever hoped for into one man. 

That’s a lot of pressure for one man. 

Here’s the thing, we hold his hand and it’s the
closest we have been to intimacy.
We meet his lips and it’s like meeting a future kiss.
And he isn’t the same to us after that.

His eyes aren’t windows anymore, 
they’re the first eyes to adore us. When we say we want
to drown in them,
we mean they’re the first to really see us.

And it feels good to finally be noticed.
Our whole lives depend on that one moment.

The thing is, our vision changes when we’re
waiting on a dream.
We turn a human into a blessing,
he’s the horizon we have begged for.

And it terrifies us.
Because no matter how hard we love,
we always end up shattering

will be in my chapbook Red Mouth, in 2017

You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.