i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination

Half of me and half of you, a point of divergence for you
Half of me and half of you, a point of amalgamation to me
Half of me and half of you, a false pretence to you
Half of me and half of you, a make-believe fairytale to me
Half of me and half of you, a hefty disdain to you
Half of me and half of you, a wishful radiance to me
Half of me and half of you, a lousy freebee to you
Half of me and half of you, a subtle rush to me
Half of me and half of you, a blatant lie for you
Half of me and half of you, a beautiful lie to me
                                                                         -Asher Graves

News flows like wildfire, Reporters outside covering the case
Actuality is falsified, Justice as always late
                                                            ­          -Asher Graves

The midnight breeze escorts your pace,
Grace in motion, my soul’s quiet praise.
Might I dare to ask, if true,
Who is the maiden with mohawk hue?
I cannot bear to meet her gaze,
The fairest face that steals the haze.

Her teardrops mirror
A Starlit sky
In the beauty
Of a soul
That yearns to heal

In gentle light
Adorned by love
Drift petals
Upon the tide

So close ever drawn
Tender deep in Love's caress
Hearts bleed into one

A blue flame flickers
Enchanting in deepest blue
Amidst a dark night