#emotionaltruth
You took my wedding day away from me.
Even though you have forgotten about me
I have never forgotten about you.
Someone has even taken your place
And I'm torn in two
Because he was always there
When you never were.
He is the rightful owner of the title
But **** my heart
I can't bring myself to hurt you
In the same way that you have hurt me.
When I think about that special day
In the future
I feel a pain because
Although I know who deserves to walk me down the aisle
I can't imagine having you just sit off to the side
Feeling horrible because you never lived up to who you were supposed to be for me
I'm a fool
It should be easy
But every time,
Every time I think about that day
Instead of feeling joy
I just feel pain and heart ache.
So I have decided,
I won't ever have one.
It's hard to choose between the one that loves you with a fullness in their heart
Versus the one who could never love with depth even though they are blood.
You took that day from me.
I don't want to break your heart
Even though you so easily broke mine.
At the end of the day,
He is my dad through and through
But there was a time that I remembered where you were once my dad too.
Now I see
Princesses grow up
And fairy tales were never real.
You taught me that.
And you took my wedding day away from me.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 6:08 PM UTC
I gave up pieces of myself that I never found.
In the midst of being with you I am mourning what I never was.
I see myself and my invisibility and I just stopped trying.
I gave in to things that are less than me and became less of who I could have been.
I have shrank myself not because of you but because of who I allowed myself to not be.
I feel powerful and weak and capable and incapable all at once.
I am a mixture of confusion and loss of youth.
My heart has only ever beaten sadly.
Panic attacks have become common.
I don’t even recognize them but I feel like I am being swallowed whole.
I can’t crawl out of my skin, I am caged and I am claustrophobic.
I want to be happy. It’s all here but I can’t reach it.
I feel my heart wanting to burst and I am afraid of heart attacks and aneurysms.
But also wonder if that would be best.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 4:17 PM UTC
Crossing both fingers— hoping my luck
aligns with a healthy beginning; I should’ve
stopped leaning on lovers to fill me with meaning,
A cigarette kissed my middle finger— baby it’s
still stinging; now I flick curses with an itchy finger…
The Uno card I played yesterday wasn’t winning—
a wild-card start with no healthy beginning: the next
time I fall, take me as new, I’m just a beginner;
Pushing to the limit, limit pushing feelings —
“please, Lord”—I whisper, “I'm just a beginner;”
a sinner rehearsing the role of forgiving, convincing
myself I'm not a sinner; truth is, for me…
I need that healthy beginning.
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 6:26 AM UTC
A burden sits heavy.
A secret runs deep.
It lives in the heart’s dark corners,
where shadows quietly seep in.
There’s no ache quite like
the story you never tell—
a ship of sorrow
caught and lost in its own storm.
Inside, it presses against the ribs,
wanting out.
In the fire of silence,
it smoulders.
A door never opened.
A road never walked.
A book left closed—
pages full of words
that were never spoken.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 7:22 AM UTC
I tell myself I’m strong,
a fortress built from words,
“Leave him behind, move on,”
I chant, a prayer to numb the hurt.
But then I see his face,
and the walls crumble,
memories crawl through the cracks,
each one a shadow I cannot shake.
I say I don’t feel,
I wear the mask of indifference,
but inside, the ache whispers,
“Remember. You remember everything.”
I lie to myself for safety,
pretending pain is a stranger,
yet it lingers in the corners,
soft and sharp,
a ghost I cannot exorcise.
I am strong, yes,
but strength is not absence of hurt
it is carrying it quietly,
alone, and still choosing to live.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 11:41 AM UTC
Today the light arrives without knocking,
settles on the table like it belongs there.
I don’t ask who left it on
or what it’s trying to replace.
There was a time your silence
rearranged the furniture of my days,
when absence leaned so hard on the walls
I mistook it for weather.
Now it passes through me
like a former language –
recognizable, but no longer necessary.
I carry my sentences without your echo.
This light is not hope.
It doesn’t promise anything.
It simply stays,
proof that even discarded voices
learn how to burn on their own.
I don’t forget what happened.
I just don’t kneel to it.
The wound has learned my name;
it answers now
when I call it history.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 1:31 PM UTC
The Chair Remembers – A Diptych
“Even empty chairs hold stories.”
Part I. On Betrayal
I found your absence folded neatly on the chair,
creased with care,
as though you’d rehearsed this leaving
until it learned your hands.
Nothing was broken.
That should have warned me.
The room stood intact,
complicit,
holding its breath like a witness.
Your warmth remained—
not as comfort,
but as proof
you had taken what you wanted
and left the rest convincing.
Even the clock refused to argue.
Time, it seems,
understood the arrangement.
You didn’t vanish.
You withdrew.
A clean incision.
No blood on the floor,
only the careful geometry
of what was no longer mine.
Your name stayed behind,
balanced on the edge of silence,
waiting to see
which of us would lie first.
I touched the chair.
It knew more than it said.
So did I.
This is how betrayal survives:
not in noise,
not in ruin,
but in the tenderness
with which someone
decides to leave.
Part II. On Ambiguity
I found your absence folded neatly on the chair,
as if you’d learned
how to leave without waking the room.
Nothing was broken.
Nothing asked to be forgiven.
Even the air agreed
to hold you a moment longer
than it should have.
Your warmth stayed—
not pleading,
not kind,
just accurate.
It told me you hadn’t fled.
It told me you had decided.
I want to call it betrayal,
but the word keeps hesitating,
like a key
that almost fits.
You took only what was yours.
That may be the wound.
Or the mercy.
I still haven’t chosen.
If leaving was necessary,
it was because staying
had begun to ask
for something untrue.
The clock resumed its duties.
The chair accepted the weight of me.
Everything continued
with an ease
that felt practiced.
This is what love learns
when it can no longer stay:
how to touch the world
without remaining in it.
Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 1:55 PM UTC
Really wish I cried more
On the outside, instead of
Stuffing it all deep inside —
Outwardly; I'm looking so
Well put together, but as for:
_Inwardly, Internally, Privately,
Confidentially, Personally —_
__Crashing Out!__
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC
It’s not distance that weakens a bond,
but the silence born from lack of communication.
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 7:53 AM UTC
We all run after the ones
who don’t even turn to see us,
while the ones who truly care—
we leave waiting in the shadows.
And by the time we realize,
the gems are gone.
Yes… we are humans.
Flawed, emotional, and often, just a little too late.
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
With a naked eye,
I share these naked thoughts—
so bear with me a moment.
You found me in a vulnerable stance—
_bare_, but still standing on business.
Banking on every dream that still
has a resting chance.
Even when life feels mundane in too
many ways—I keep pushing, fighting
the material gaze of critics, and the
cryptic ways some people define love
and measure trust.
But between all people, there is life—
and in life there’s the chance to live out
a dream, to become who we are without
shame, to love who loves us back, yet still,
hold out a hand, as an extension of love
to those who need it the most.
And maybe, just maybe—that’s the kind
of dream worth believing in.
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 4:14 AM UTC
I told the stars to shut up.
They weren’t witnesses. They were worse.
They kept spelling your name,
blinking slow, like pity,
glinting gallant-
like that ever saved anyone.
I walked past the summer we called ours
like I wasn’t still stalking it.
Like I didn’t prowl on purpose,
like I didn’t rehearse your alibi,
like I didn’t pray
(for prey.)
I was fine with the trees, the oil stains,
the way the sun pretended nothing happened.
I could go days without hearing an ice cream truck,
or seeing a sun-burnt stranger
and thinking: maybe the universe
rerouted you into someone
I could almost survive.
You once said I was dangerous.
And by once I mean
I wrote it down
and heard it forever.
It’s in my lymph nodes,
in the poems you pretend not to read.
It’s in the version of me
you kept almost loving
but never quite chose.
You called us perilous.
Or maybe I did.
It’s hard to tell, since
I’ve been writing you
with your mouth shut
for months.
I keep checking the margins
for your voice.
All I got were
the noises people make
when they’re trying not to drown,
but pretending to wave.
Why is your name still more siren
than sentence?
Still more blood than bruise?
I made your absence
a body I slept beside,
because I kept waking up
guilty.
I never served,
but I wrote the ending.
Put my hand on a Bible,
bit my tongue so hard
the truth still tastes like you.
Wore borrowed pearls,
and swore to God
I never loved you more
than the day you didn’t show up.
I would’ve done time for you.
I would’ve confessed to a crime
that didn’t exist
just to hold your hand once
on the courthouse steps.
You said I was dangerous.
You were right.
But not in the way you thought.
I told the whole truth-
just not out loud.
You didn’t get convicted.
But I still can’t go back
to that summer
without thinking the tan lines
were warning signs,
without getting subpoenaed
by the sky.
Some nights,
your name still tries to get in
like a burglar.
I play dead,
tell the stars to shut up.
But they unlock the window anyway.
They spell you out in light
like they want me to remember
how it felt
to be the crime scene.
Jun 15, 2025
Jun 15, 2025 at 9:12 AM UTC
Everybody keeps saying how they’d dance in the rain —
sway their bodies, feel the drops,
let the water wash away their pain.
But I say —
why romanticize what you barely understand?
You sing to storms like they’re songs of healing,
but don’t you know?
Rain is sorrow.
Rain is memory leaking through the cracks.
It’s the sky mourning something it lost,
not some magic meant to set you free.
So when someone smiles
and whispers how much they want to dance in the rain,
I look away and answer softly:
Everything but the rain.
-Asher Graves
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 10:03 AM UTC
Take the time—don’t just spend it— to watch your grind,
These dreams are brewed, steeped behind these caffeine eyes.
Still, as the sunrise scripts its golden lines, my gaze still delays
Having to put on a daily mask; trapped in yesterday’s disguise.
All of these borrowed hours lace my breath, thinned and worn,
All these seconds spent on second-guessing myself; I’m torn—
Barely paying attention to obvious life lessons due in reflection;
Skipping those lessons, now I pay with _life's_ collection.
As for facing my many regrets, it proves facing the glass—
But not all mirrors can clearly cut clean through the past.
Truths are warped, wrapped for the present, for who peer—
Peering in, fragile as much, cracked, and smeared with fear.
We search within ourselves, as all seekers must willingly do,
Searching for a love clear as glass — one that is sharp, and true.
As peach blossoms fall, and small stones roll, know: that through
The times of picking yourself up, some dust gets stuck on you.
The world isn’t so clear, especially if man’s clarity is uninvolved;
Profiting from all our scars – given titles hanging over ourselves
So many times, that prophets need to remind us of who we are
Profits, or prophets, but it all depends on who’s worth you trust.
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 12:38 AM UTC
A place where silence is understood,
Joy is shared,
Love is endless,
And you're never a burden—
Only someone to be cherished.
That’s the family we all dream of.
Not everyone gets it,
but everyone dreams of it—
a family that understands your silence,
spreads joy without reason,
loves you beyond measure,
and never lets you feel like a burden.
An ideal family is not just a blessing…
it's a rare kind of magic.
Getting a loving family,
Who understand your troubles without telling…
Who make efforts to spread happiness…
Who loves you more than you do…
Who feels you as their responsibility but not a burden…
An ideal family : Dream of every human being!!
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:06 AM UTC
Did you ever think of staying?
Or was leaving the only way
you knew how to love me?
Was I too much,
or not enough?
Did I ask for things
you couldn’t give,
or did you offer less
than you were able?
I wonder if you held back your truth
to protect me,
or to protect yourself
from watching me fall apart.
The answers don’t come.
But the questions—
they stay.
Lodged somewhere between
my ribs and my memory,
quiet,
persistent,
unanswered.
Apr 24, 2025
Apr 24, 2025 at 8:39 PM UTC