Ashton Brandy @ashtonbrandywritesthings - Tumblr Blog

My mother is not Demeter, clawing at the earth to get me back into her arms, into her care.

A relief for her to realize I am someone else’s burden now- relief for me to not bear witness to her disappointment anymore, though heartbreak accompanies this.

And grief, I know, plagues us both.

#poetry #creative writing #i miss you #i miss my mom #spilled in writing #liminal spaces #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #free write #spilled prose #spilled words #i wrote it #this is what makes us girls

ashtonbrandywritesthings

oh what it is to be a girl and eat all the cookie dough i want

raw eggs, raw eggs, raw EGGS you cry

Raw? I ask. Fucking raw? (desperately, this time. Breathless and a little sad)

What do those stupid eggs know about being raw?

they have never been loved and left by you

not like me.

think maybe I could be a little like a jack o’ lantern

everything is already carved out inside of me

if anyone has a little light to share, i’ll keep it safe

#spilled ink #nostalgic #just girly things #fall leaves #poetry for the soul

my parents didn’t tell me happy birthday this year-

i hold this information in my fragile hands, and they sit in my palm like a small bird with a broken wing

#spilled ink #spilled in writing #free write #fall leaves #fall season #creative writing #excerpt from a book i might write #just girly things #nostalgic #spilled prose #spilled thoughts

the crushing pressure of being with someone who doesn’t have the same demons you do

#free write #creative writing #spilled ink #spilled in writing #excerpt from a book i might write #just girly things #nostalgic #spilled prose #spilled thoughts #winter writes #winter writing prompts #winter #november #fall season #fall leaves #thanksgiving

the pipeline of wanting to be exactly like your mom when you grow up to that being the worst possible thing that you could be is so real

#free write #spilled ink #confession #spilled in writing #excerpt from a book i might write #just girly things #nostalgic #my mom hates me #daughter core

mythwoven

"What kind of music do you like?" Oh you know....women screaming music, haunted women music, women stifling sobs music, women crying out in desperation music, women evoking folktales and old gods music, violent women music, women having fun music, women screaming out vows of love and devotion music, women taking revenge music, women moaning music.....

i started to stop feeling bad when i’m mean to

you and i realize that isn’t good

not really

not

when you feel it as deeply

as you do and i don’t

#free write #creative writing #angst writing #poetry #modern poem #angst poem #spilled in writing #spilled ink #spilled prose #spilled thoughts #liminal tumblr

Growing Pains

Life, I have eventually come to realize, goes on whether I want it to or not, even when my mind cripples me, and my heart bottoms out into my stomach, far too deep to feel the beat anymore; the sharp, poignant pain whittles like an arrow piercing layer after layer I’ve spent years building at the thought that yes, things will march on even though my dog will not always be there to greet me at the front door, and “mom” will stop showing up on my caller ID, and the quiet Sunday breakfasts with my best friend, sending whispers back and forth across the steam from our coffee, will fade into breakfast for one.

I think, perhaps, at this realization, it may be time to nourish something more meaningful than my apathy, less cancerous than my anger, and I can plant softer things in my garden to grow.

-Ashton Brandy

#free write #poetry #growing up #nostalgia #nostaligiacore #getting older #moving on #so tired #angst writing #modern poem #breakup poetry #just girly things #outgrown #nostalgic #sad aesthetic #sad poetry

ashtonbrandywritesthings

No Leap Year

I’m older now, you know.

I keep changing in ways I don’t understand.

I’m drinking coffee in my car before work,

and the view isn’t very nice, but it’s stirring something in me.

I talk out loud like you’re here next to me-

I didn’t need a blood pact, I tell you,

I didn’t need a commitment that involved all of your time and space,

I just wanted you to want me mind, body, and soul,

and if you at least wanted one of three, I’d have taken it.

It doesn’t matter now.

The sun rises behind me.

It makes a shadow on my dashboard that looks like a fish.

(Like I said, the view isn’t great)

But I think if you were here, you would’ve liked it.

#heartbreak #i hate this #i hate him #good poetry #good poem #good shit #feel better #i hate everything #angst poem #angst poetry #women are beautiful #women are superior #women are art #i love writing

Maybe I did it because you smelled so good, like the bonfire burning and the perfume lingering in your hair- something like vanilla and pepper. Maybe it was because i felt so dirty from the smoke, and my eyes were stinging, and there was only one thing that could make me feel clean.

I kiss you, diving in the same way I dive into a lake on a summer day- cold shock followed by blissful relief.

(Ashes to Ashes)

#free write #creative writing #new writer #modern poem #poetry #poem #black and white aesthetic #southern goth aesthetic #southern gothic writing #kissing #kissing you

One summer when i was a child, my Aunt B came to stay with us.

My mom said it was because she broke up with her boyfriend, and we weren’t supposed to talk about it.

“Mind your business,” she said.

“Don’t ask her a thousand questions.”

I didn’t really have to. Aunt B talked about it a lot while she was there.

She ranted and joked and scoffed and rolled her eyes, and the thing about Aunt B was that she was so funny. She was one of the funniest people i knew. She was so funny, in fact, that I thought that breakup was the funniest thing that ever happened.

But then she would cry - and cry and cry with big, fat scary tears and big fat scary sobs.

I had never heard crying like that before.

“Boys are mean,” was about the only explanation she would ever give.

(She said it a lot that summer)

I had two older brothers and I thought they were pretty mean, pushing me or teasing me, and they would make me cry but not like that.

Never like that.

I asked my mom about it once.

“Some boys are a lot meaner than other boys,” was all she said. She told me I would understand when I was older.

I did eventually, when I found my own boy that made me cry like that.

It was grief, i learned though i wish I hadn’t. Yes, a grieving, not for the boy, but for the part of you that got lost while loving him.

It’s almost a right of passage for girlhood, isn’t it?

Figuring out that boys are mean, yes, but some boys are a lot meaner.