That light evening in June is burned into my brain despite age riddling my memory with holes. Every detail is like dust highlighted by the light from an open window. Light, floating, surreal and perfect.
It feels as if everything Ive done in my life was all to lead towards an extraordinary trip to the cinemas.
-
A spark of irritation flashed through me at the small throng of people that left before the lights went up. Why do they do that?
How could they possibly have organised their belongings with no light? Its as if they sat there on the edge of their seats waiting for the credits to roll so they could race from their seats
Cursed constipation of the brain,
Why must you cause such pain?
All I wish to do is write,
Won't someone hear my plight?
You are quite tearing me apart,
Oh won't you please depart?
A Dark Figure and a Dark Night by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
A Dark Figure and a Dark Night
A dark figure cuts through the mist of a cold deserted cemetery one moonless night.
She seems to slice through the fog as her hooded cloak is so dark, contrasting to the pale fog. Being unable to see her footsteps she appears to be gliding, that you can hear her muffled footsteps is of very little assurance to your imaginings.
She holds such an ethereal presence about herself and you shiver as it passes over you and catches every sense you own. Everything about her is suddenly sharper. The contrast of her clothing and the snow blanketed world around her suddenly seems stark and harsh, the rustle of her clothing in the still air is painfully
Thoughts of meeting him again have kept me sane these past weeks. They consume me more with each passing day, like a slow burning fire consuming it's food of wood and tinder.
Dreams of running into his arms, finally holding him again, plague my nights and some of my days.
I wake, crying, early in the morn knowing that these dreams of mine are irrational and won't be played out for years, if ever.
What if this love i carry is only that? A dream.
I want him here with me now. Is that too much to ask?
Of course it is.
To ask for him to follow me is unforgivable. He need not leave everything I left merely cause i request.
Yet what if I did
Too Much Love? - The End by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
Too Much Love? - The End
Well my former dearest,
Here we are. Well actually here I am because I actually have the courage and the conviction to live on with my heartache, my heart shattered as it is.
I refuse to feel guilt for your death any longer despite my hand in it.
I did, I admit, feel guilty for a while but then I realized if something as simple as my words would cause you to take your life then so be it.
My dear, you hurt me a lot more than my words could ever have hurt you.
You betrayed me, and not in a way thats automatically assumed, but one ridden with sneakiness and deceit.
You lead one to believe you were content and happy, and now you
Too Much Love? - The Threequel by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
Too Much Love? - The Threequel
Dearest friend,
Im terribly sorry but your last letter did nothing to reassure me. If anything I am more worried than before.
Your letter could have been written by a drunk person, and knowing your current lifestyle choices Im not too sure it wasnt.
It was grossly incoherent; the handwriting was atrocious, as was the vocabulary and structure.
I dont mean to criticize but you know my position on errors such as those.
I fear I may regret this but, youve vexed me so with your inability to turn your life around. Even though I know that after this is said there is no turning back.
I do not intend on writing aga
Too Much Love? - The Sequel by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
Too Much Love? - The Sequel
Dear friend,
Thank-you for your input it helped me considerably. I actually slept for the entirety of last night.
I love you dearly my one and only friend, but still I have to ask a question that may jeopardize our friendship.
If a love for literature is not as bad as first assumed why then did you turn your back on your own love for it?
What made you turn from books to drugs, sex and alcohol? Did I do something wrong?
Does reading remind you of me and how often we fought? Am I vain to think that is so?
That I was what caused your sudden hatred towards our shared love.
Is it true?
Please dont hate me for asking dear friend
That light evening in June is burned into my brain despite age riddling my memory with holes. Every detail is like dust highlighted by the light from an open window. Light, floating, surreal and perfect.
It feels as if everything Ive done in my life was all to lead towards an extraordinary trip to the cinemas.
-
A spark of irritation flashed through me at the small throng of people that left before the lights went up. Why do they do that?
How could they possibly have organised their belongings with no light? Its as if they sat there on the edge of their seats waiting for the credits to roll so they could race from their seats
Cursed constipation of the brain,
Why must you cause such pain?
All I wish to do is write,
Won't someone hear my plight?
You are quite tearing me apart,
Oh won't you please depart?
A Dark Figure and a Dark Night by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
A Dark Figure and a Dark Night
A dark figure cuts through the mist of a cold deserted cemetery one moonless night.
She seems to slice through the fog as her hooded cloak is so dark, contrasting to the pale fog. Being unable to see her footsteps she appears to be gliding, that you can hear her muffled footsteps is of very little assurance to your imaginings.
She holds such an ethereal presence about herself and you shiver as it passes over you and catches every sense you own. Everything about her is suddenly sharper. The contrast of her clothing and the snow blanketed world around her suddenly seems stark and harsh, the rustle of her clothing in the still air is painfully
Thoughts of meeting him again have kept me sane these past weeks. They consume me more with each passing day, like a slow burning fire consuming it's food of wood and tinder.
Dreams of running into his arms, finally holding him again, plague my nights and some of my days.
I wake, crying, early in the morn knowing that these dreams of mine are irrational and won't be played out for years, if ever.
What if this love i carry is only that? A dream.
I want him here with me now. Is that too much to ask?
Of course it is.
To ask for him to follow me is unforgivable. He need not leave everything I left merely cause i request.
Yet what if I did
Too Much Love? - The End by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
Too Much Love? - The End
Well my former dearest,
Here we are. Well actually here I am because I actually have the courage and the conviction to live on with my heartache, my heart shattered as it is.
I refuse to feel guilt for your death any longer despite my hand in it.
I did, I admit, feel guilty for a while but then I realized if something as simple as my words would cause you to take your life then so be it.
My dear, you hurt me a lot more than my words could ever have hurt you.
You betrayed me, and not in a way thats automatically assumed, but one ridden with sneakiness and deceit.
You lead one to believe you were content and happy, and now you
Too Much Love? - The Threequel by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
Too Much Love? - The Threequel
Dearest friend,
Im terribly sorry but your last letter did nothing to reassure me. If anything I am more worried than before.
Your letter could have been written by a drunk person, and knowing your current lifestyle choices Im not too sure it wasnt.
It was grossly incoherent; the handwriting was atrocious, as was the vocabulary and structure.
I dont mean to criticize but you know my position on errors such as those.
I fear I may regret this but, youve vexed me so with your inability to turn your life around. Even though I know that after this is said there is no turning back.
I do not intend on writing aga
Too Much Love? - The Sequel by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
Too Much Love? - The Sequel
Dear friend,
Thank-you for your input it helped me considerably. I actually slept for the entirety of last night.
I love you dearly my one and only friend, but still I have to ask a question that may jeopardize our friendship.
If a love for literature is not as bad as first assumed why then did you turn your back on your own love for it?
What made you turn from books to drugs, sex and alcohol? Did I do something wrong?
Does reading remind you of me and how often we fought? Am I vain to think that is so?
That I was what caused your sudden hatred towards our shared love.
Is it true?
Please dont hate me for asking dear friend
A Dark Figure and a Dark Night by Ashley-Jane, literature
Literature
A Dark Figure and a Dark Night
A dark figure cuts through the mist of a cold deserted cemetery one moonless night.
She seems to slice through the fog as her hooded cloak is so dark, contrasting to the pale fog. Being unable to see her footsteps she appears to be gliding, that you can hear her muffled footsteps is of very little assurance to your imaginings.
She holds such an ethereal presence about herself and you shiver as it passes over you and catches every sense you own. Everything about her is suddenly sharper. The contrast of her clothing and the snow blanketed world around her suddenly seems stark and harsh, the rustle of her clothing in the still air is painfully
I've got this project going on with my Mum which is going to be a lot of fun once we've got it up and running. If you want to check it out visit her profile here
~MummyMagick (https://www.deviantart.com/mummymagick)
My birthday is in a few days but we're not celebrating for another month. I do however know what my cake's going to be. I'm going to try my hand at making a giant cupcake, should be interesting >.< If it turns out any good I will definitely put up a picture.
Other then that everything's just okay.
I have finally kicked my writers block.
OMFGYAY! HURRUH!
I know it's really really long. I'm sorry about that but once I started writing I just couldn't bring myself to curb my enthusiasm.
Then when I read over it i couldn't edit it because it took so much time to get it out of my head.
I can't think of anything else to say.
Loves and hugs,
Ashley-Jane
P.S I heard someone call limewire lizzlewizzle last night and I laughed so hard. Thought I should share it with you. :)
I am suffering from the worst thing imaginable!!!
Writer's Block. Or as i like to think of it Constipation of the Brain.
I haven't written anything in forever and sometimes I'd just like to think it's not worth worrying about.
But then i'd be one of the people who have to walk this Earth obsessed with the material and never knowing the true power and beauty of words.
I don't mean that towards what i write. I'm not vain. But i refer to all of the people who put so much effort and sweat and tears into a book for the worlds consideration only to have everyone look at it and think i'm too busy to read.
I spend a lot of my time reading becaus