I reached out to you yesterday.
You had just told me how you felt,
You said it felt difficult.
I felt it too.

Three weeks it had been.
The silence echoed.
I questioned myself, had I done something?
I waited and waited…

I asked to meet up again,
You didn’t respond.
The day before you sounded different,
Then I heard nothing but my own heartbeat.

I had been over the moon.
I thought you might like me.
Do you though?
How am I to know.

My friend saw us,
Were you asked about it, and it felt too much?
Or were you honest…
You just felt like you were gonna mess something up.

I was given a gift, a tender thing
A heart that knew the songs to sing.
So full of love, so soft, so true,
It held a cure the cold once knew.

It cost me more than I could pay,
Yet still, I chose to give that way.
To thrive, it needed hearts as kind,
With gentle hands and quiet minds.

I wandered far through souls and faces,
Through empty halls and crowded places,
To find a heart that dared to feel,
To break, not hide behind what’s real.

But all I found were sharpened minds,
With pride and reason intertwined.
They saw its cracks, they mocked its beat
Too soft to win, too quick to bleed.

Each time it met a colder flame,
It broke in ways I couldn’t name.
I tried to guard it, held it tight,
But it was born to lose that fight.

And then I saw, with aching eyes,
That I, too, judged it, cold and wise.
I weighed it not in love, but thought,
And killed the grace that can't be taught.

A gift too pure for minds so keen,
It dimmed where coldest thoughts had been
So in the dark, I dug a grave,
For all the love I couldn’t save.

And there it sleeps beneath my chest
A precious gift, laid down to rest.

Her
Cutting through, dancing through
with petals rumbling beneath our feet,
we dip and twist, entwined by a whispering thread—
holding tight enough to turn you blue, but never red, my love.

I don’t know where it will strike—
but I know I’ll die with wrinkles around my lips,
comfort in my eyes,
knowing I made the greatest trade—
my life, for you, my light.

To have you hold me—
guide me when sight fades, catch me as my body fails,
your gaze speaking volumes beyond words,
holding me soft and fragile—
so precious no one else could ever recreate this, my dear.

Him
On crumbling petals, I dance with you,
making sure I don’t crumble beneath your weight,
so fragile—
I don’t want to hold you so tight it causes pain,
nor let the world’s hurt reach you, my angel.

Sealed—
my lips cannot speak the depth of your meaning,
so I plead for you to see in my eyes
all the words they cannot say, my flame.
If the blade falls after claiming a head,

Let it be mine—
I will take the strike,
shield you from every wound, my oath.
With a smile,
love burning in my eyes for you,
there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, my heart.

Though my lips may be silent—
for you my legs stand firm to walk beside you,
my arms grow strong to hold you close,
my eyes sharpen to find you if you stray, my light.

My heart burns—
a calm fire fueled by love,
the most painful moments made beautiful by you, my salvation.
You are my heaven on earth,
the cure to every pain,

The beat within my chest—
and so I beat,
always, for you, my love.

Together—
we guide each other through,
hoping the blade never falls—
not because we fear the end,
but because we want to hold and lead each other,
not out of need,
but out of love.
“Moonlace”

I wish I could cry, but I feel no tears.
I wish I could try—just slowly speak my mind clear.
I wish I didn’t have to explain myself every time I feel fear.
I believed those who know me would understand—
but that was a failure.

Here I am, sitting in quiet despair,
while a stranger understands my dilemma—
and no words were exchanged there.
                                                                   -Asher Graves

Of all the games
we learned to play
with jokes, with rules,
with risk and trust
we never chose
to lie.

But then you did.
And nothing
held.

No knot was tight,
no safe word sure,
no breath between us
true.

A whispered “yes”
became a guess,
and touch
a kind of theft.

Now every scene
rewinds itself,
the lines we drew
blurred…

For once a lie
slips past the lips,
nothing
truly grips.

just a simple question,
dressed as a metaphor —

where do i get buried
when i can barely breathe on this earth?
kind of like a suffocation so deep,
filling my very being —
in my veins.
oh, i feel so weak.

invisible cuts bleed,
a kind of self-punishment.
spent so long handing out pieces of myself
like fragile offerings
to daily otherworldly deities —
hoping to provide
even an inch of comfort
that i usually needed.

was it ever enough?

yet called names, looked at in strange ways —
speculated every moment,
like a statue in an odd place.
as if they see through it all —
all the façade
of being high up on the clouds.

humorous, it shall be,
if they were to see
the stricken sounds i make —
grief-filled,
and vowing to never
ever let a pair of hands
hold my heart again.

this bleeds.
aches so tenderly —
like trying to whisper through a scream,
like trying to write to a hollow
that doesn't seem to cease,
like an overflowing cannon
that just never really spills.

will this be seen
as that quiet, raw, untamed beauty?
beast-like,
trying to hold it
within the grasp of stiff hands?

have they felt a little less alone?
perhaps in my company —
for i wouldn't want them to go
into the same feelings
of never being heeded to.

i wished they'd see,
but i'm walked all over through.

can't help it —
yeah, i know.
always left wondering:
why can't i comfort
with words
as they're meant to?

they feel like smoke and silence —
barely hard to describe
or to put down.
the heaviness
heaves a sigh
every time i spread my arms
a bit around.

maybe connections are hard.
maybe i should be quieter.

speaking has never helped —
perhaps i should tie
my hands,
my feet,
my mouth —

and vanish?
disappear?
become a ghost without a heartbeat —
because i haven’t really
been living either.

will you listen to the echoes
of these voices —
and the way they sound
in the night,
and when the sun dawns,
and the skies align?

will you see?
will you listen
to me?