Ashe Vernon's Blog, page 11
July 5, 2017
Hey lovebugs. I’m probably going to disappear for a little while. Due to a scammer and a...
Hey lovebugs. I’m probably going to disappear for a little while. Due to a scammer and a fraudulent charge on my account, my bank account is now almost 4000 in the red. The police and the bank have essentially said there’s nothing they can do about it and I’m still reeling from it. I won’t be around much until I’ve gotten moved out of my apartment and sorted through some of this chaos.
I love you all. Take care of yourselves. Protect yourselves.
July 4, 2017
"The boy in the back room holds the mirror to his neck.
You aren’t in love with him. At least, not..."
“The boy in the back room holds the mirror to his neck.
You aren’t in love with him. At least, not yet.
For now, he doesn’t know how to touch you
with anything but his hands.
And so it’s almost enough,
and it’s more than you can stand.
He is a Red Light District in and of himself.
When he offers Indulgence like ambrosia,
you lick it from his fingers and he thinks
this is all he knows how to give.
Teeth on his neck, hand between his thighs,
you say you want his heart,
but he doesn’t understand.
He gives his mouth, instead.
After that, the days ferment like apricot wine.
You bite his lips the right kind of russet,
make music of his spine.
And then at night, you dream
of plunging your fist through his ribs
to tear out the songbird inside.
But in the mornings,
you do him violence with
the softest parts of your hands.
You find his sweetness.
You make it yours, instead.
We call this, surviving.
We call this, sin.
You’ll regret it, someday.
But, right now, you aren’t
in love with him.
You aren’t in love with him.
At least,
not yet.”
- APRICOT WINE, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
You aren’t in love with him. At least, not yet.
For now, he doesn’t know how to touch you
with anything but his hands.
And so it’s almost enough,
and it’s more than you can stand.
He is a Red Light District in and of himself.
When he offers Indulgence like ambrosia,
you lick it from his fingers and he thinks
this is all he knows how to give.
Teeth on his neck, hand between his thighs,
you say you want his heart,
but he doesn’t understand.
He gives his mouth, instead.
After that, the days ferment like apricot wine.
You bite his lips the right kind of russet,
make music of his spine.
And then at night, you dream
of plunging your fist through his ribs
to tear out the songbird inside.
But in the mornings,
you do him violence with
the softest parts of your hands.
You find his sweetness.
You make it yours, instead.
We call this, surviving.
We call this, sin.
You’ll regret it, someday.
But, right now, you aren’t
in love with him.
You aren’t in love with him.
At least,
not yet.”
- APRICOT WINE, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
July 2, 2017
"You" have been a hundred
different people.
You
always break my heart."
““You" have been a hundred
different people.
You
always break my heart.”
- Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
different people.
You
always break my heart.”
- Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
June 29, 2017
"I look down at my body and think no, I will not abandon you."
“I look down at my body and think no, I will not abandon you.”
- Ashe Vernon - “For Anyone Who’s Listening”
(via buttonpoetry)
- Ashe Vernon - “For Anyone Who’s Listening”
(via buttonpoetry)
June 23, 2017
"He asks you to hold him.
Call him he, not-he. Boy, not-boy.
Woman. Six feet tall and..."
“He asks you to hold him.
Call him he, not-he. Boy, not-boy.
Woman. Six feet tall and glorious.
Gorgeous.
Curled into the comma of the sentence–
the breath. Breathing you in, in,
until you stutter for the words to find her.
To pull her out of her body and into yours.
Safe and quiet.
Like a prayer to a better god.
Hallelujah.”
- SOFTLY, SOFTER, SOFTER by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
Call him he, not-he. Boy, not-boy.
Woman. Six feet tall and glorious.
Gorgeous.
Curled into the comma of the sentence–
the breath. Breathing you in, in,
until you stutter for the words to find her.
To pull her out of her body and into yours.
Safe and quiet.
Like a prayer to a better god.
Hallelujah.”
- SOFTLY, SOFTER, SOFTER by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
"He asks you to hold him.
Call him he, not-he. Boy, not-boy.
Woman. Six feet tall and..."
“He asks you to hold him.
Call him he, not-he. Boy, not-boy.
Woman. Six feet tall and glorious.
Gorgeous.
Curled into the comma of the sentence–
the breath. Breathing you in, in,
until you stutter for the words to find her.
To pull her out of her body and into yours.
Safe and quiet.
Like a prayer to a better god.
Hallelujah.”
- SOFTLY, SOFTER, SOFTER by Ashe Vernon
Call him he, not-he. Boy, not-boy.
Woman. Six feet tall and glorious.
Gorgeous.
Curled into the comma of the sentence–
the breath. Breathing you in, in,
until you stutter for the words to find her.
To pull her out of her body and into yours.
Safe and quiet.
Like a prayer to a better god.
Hallelujah.”
- SOFTLY, SOFTER, SOFTER by Ashe Vernon
June 19, 2017
"I don’t know how to not
love people when they’re hurting.
I guess that’s why I keep falling in..."
“I don’t know how to not
love people when they’re hurting.
I guess that’s why I keep falling in love
with open wounds and then not understanding
when we are nothing but blood
in a lifeboat.”
- Ashe Vernon, “Lonely Poets Puts Words To It”
love people when they’re hurting.
I guess that’s why I keep falling in love
with open wounds and then not understanding
when we are nothing but blood
in a lifeboat.”
- Ashe Vernon, “Lonely Poets Puts Words To It”
June 18, 2017
June 17, 2017
"Something about the dark.
Something about queer bodies
and the way we find one another.
Something..."
“Something about the dark.
Something about queer bodies
and the way we find one another.
Something about the place where fear
melts in the mouth and gets lost in kisses
and under fingernails.
Something about the sanctity of trust,
of midnight confessions,
of held breath let out on a sigh
like a smoke signal,
a safe harbor.
Some kind of magic.
The kind that’s only
for us.”
- QUEER GOSPEL AND TRANS HYMNALS by Ashe Vernon
Something about queer bodies
and the way we find one another.
Something about the place where fear
melts in the mouth and gets lost in kisses
and under fingernails.
Something about the sanctity of trust,
of midnight confessions,
of held breath let out on a sigh
like a smoke signal,
a safe harbor.
Some kind of magic.
The kind that’s only
for us.”
- QUEER GOSPEL AND TRANS HYMNALS by Ashe Vernon
latenightcornerstore:
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