Ashe Vernon's Blog, page 132
November 4, 2015
"Let’s talk about the time she hurt you.
How she held your hand in her own
an your heart in her..."
How she held your hand in her own
an your heart in her teeth.
How she plucked your veins,
made music of your heart,
and you let her.
Let’s talk about the time
you cried on her doorstep.
How she wrapped her arms
around you for warmth and still
you felt like icing over.
Let’s talk about love and desire
and how they aren’t the same.
Let’s talk about how she never loved you.
Let’s talk about her mouth–
the way she’d whisper broken curses
against your lips, in the dark.
How she was the closest thing to a saint
you’ve ever touched.
A woman made of arsenic and marzipan.
Let’s talk about the day you left her:
with your jaw set, your eyes up.
With no fear left, no tears worth heaving.
The way you never looked back.
The way your heart felt so light,
you almost didn’t recognize it.
Yes.
Let’s talk about that.
Let’s talk about that, instead.”
- Self-Help, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
November 3, 2015
"All this naked sky
and you,
with your shaking hands,
too afraid to take your coat off.
The array of..."
All this naked sky
and you,
with your shaking hands,
too afraid to take your coat off.
The array of stars gone shy
and bashful
under the gaze of seven billion
watchful eyes.
You undress facing the window.
You think
the moon understands
what it means to feel
exposed; you think
the moon never turns her back
for a reason.
You think the moon
would kiss you like a southern solstice–
peel herself from the sky
and love you for every hour
that the sun’s up.
The array of stars
watch the outline of your naked
body through the glass.
They don’t love you the way
daytime TV says you’re supposed
to want to be loved.
All this naked sky, and
you–
with your shaking ribs,
you–
with your aching hands,
you–
too afraid to love the sunlight.
- Decent Exposure, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
"There are seven billion people alive right now, and countless more who have lived before us and all..."
- Ashe Vernon
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who can't drive, had been in a crummy relationship on and off for 5 years, still obsessed with that ex-boyfriend even though he is a literal piece of shit, hates her body so much that she loses her problems in a porcelain. RELE
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who only learned how to drive a couple months ago, hasn’t been in anything even close to a relationship in more than a year, incapable of forming meaningful romantic connections due to a crippling fear of commitment, hates her body so much she started covering it in ink so she wouldn’t have to look at it directly
RELEVANCE: messages like yours remind me that even when we feel our worst, our most useless, even when we hate ourselves the most there are people who love us. Messages like yours remind me why I do this: to make sense of the ugly inside of myself–of course
but also, to help you see the beauty inside of you.
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who can't drive, had been in a crummy relationship on and off for 5 years, still obsessed with that ex-boyfriend even though he is a literal piece of shit, hates her body so much that she loses her problems in a porcelain. RELE
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who only learned how to drive a couple months ago, hasn’t been in anything even close to a relationship in more than a year, incapable of forming meaningful romantic connections due to a crippling fear of commitment, hates her body so much she started covering it in ink so she wouldn’t have to look at it directly
RELEVANCE: messages like yours remind me that even when we feel our worst, our most useless, even when we hate ourselves the most there are people who love us. Messages like yours remind me why I do this: to make sense of the ugly inside of myself–of course
but also, to help you see the beauty inside of you.
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who can't drive, had been in a crummy relationship on and off for 5 years, still obsessed with that ex-boyfriend even though he is a literal piece of shit, hates her body so much that she loses her problems in a porcelain. RELE
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who only learned how to drive a couple months ago, hasn’t been in anything even close to a relationship in more than a year, incapable of forming meaningful romantic connections due to a crippling fear of commitment, hates her body so much she started covering it in ink so she wouldn’t have to look at it directly
RELEVANCE: messages like yours remind me that even when we feel our worst, our most useless, even when we hate ourselves the most there are people who love us. Messages like yours remind me why I do this: to make sense of the ugly inside of myself–of course
but also, to help you see the beauty inside of you.
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who can't drive, had been in a crummy relationship on and off for 5 years, still obsessed with that ex-boyfriend even though he is a literal piece of shit, hates her body so much that she loses her problems in a porcelain. RELE
CONTEXT ABOUT ME: 22 fuck up who only learned how to drive a couple months ago, hasn’t been in anything even close to a relationship in more than a year, incapable of forming meaningful romantic connections due to a crippling fear of commitment, hates her body so much she started covering it in ink so she wouldn’t have to look at it directly
RELEVANCE: messages like yours remind me that even when we feel our worst, our most useless, even when we hate ourselves the most there are people who love us. Messages like yours remind me why I do this: to make sense of the ugly inside of myself–of course
but also, to help you see the beauty inside of you.
November 2, 2015
"Mama with the world on her back.
Mama with hands like roses in full bloom.
Mama built from heartache..."
Mama with the world on her back.
Mama with hands like roses in full bloom.
Mama built from heartache and mortar,
cigarettes like hand grenades–
Mama with the sins of the father.
Mama cries where no one can see her.
Mama loves like it’s going out of style.
Mama learned her lessons the hard way.
Mama’s got a smile like cracked terracotta, but
she can hold herself together in her baby’s arms.
Mama in an empty house.
Mama on one side of the telephone.
Mama loves you, but oh, you make her heart hurt.
Mama loves you, but she wishes you’d come home more often.
Mama loves you, but she doesn’t know you anymore.
Mama’s got hair like the streets, mid-December.
Mama’s got clicking clockwork arthritis,
but her legs still work just fine.
Mama loves you, baby, Mama loves you.
“Mama’s gonna make it alright.”
- Mama, by Ashe Vernon
(inspired by the style of Fat Girl by Megan Falley)
November 1, 2015
"This is how we loved.
Not with mouths,
but with minefields.
We were two bodies starving—
digging..."
Not with mouths,
but with minefields.
We were two bodies starving—
digging through dirt
on the raw of our hands.
I never touched you like
waltzes in moonlight;
I touched like rabid dogs;
like forks in electrical sockets
and I’m sorry for that.
And you: a forgotten era.
You, who crawled
on your belly toward the light.
You, who ate the sun
to keep yourself shining.
You were scared of the dark
and I was scared of the dark
inside myself.
I sucked the light from
between your teeth
and left you a dying star
in an unnamed constellation.
I walked up the axis of the earth—
mud beneath my nails,
blood on my chin.
I met the moon halfway
and told her all about
the way I used to feel
when you would kiss me.
She’s still the only one who knows.
I took your light,
I’m sorry.
I didn’t know I had one of my own.”
- Mercury and Mars, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
