ryanwithlions
Ryan Michael Rhone
Original Poetry. Maryland. 29.
685 posts
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blessedfriend.
i just wanted to let you all know i'm alive/still learning how to survive outside of the .com/home has grown into something more than a hyperlink/i think it's a lover's sunroom at sunset/sunrise has shone my thoughts back to feelings/light is what i feel most days/nights are no longer for giving up or giving in/love is where i lay my head down/love is how i keep my head up/love is sticking my neck out/love sharpens my pencils and puts them away/home is the feeling i don't have to explain/understand, i feel most like a poet when there's nothing to say/
#poetry#poem#poets on tumblr#spilled ink#twcpoetry#blessedfriend#bre#writers#.com#poet#home#sunrooms#sunsets#big smit
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blessedfriend.
i just wanted to let you all know i'm alive/still learning how to survive outside of the .com/home has grown into something more than a hyperlink/i think it's a lover's sunroom at sunset/sunrise has shone my thoughts back to feelings/light is what i feel most days/nights are no longer for giving up or giving in/love is where i lay my head down/love is how i keep my head up/love is sticking my neck out/love sharpens my pencils and puts them away/home is the feeling i don't have to explain/understand, i feel most like a poet when there's nothing to say/
#poetry#poem#poets on tumblr#spilled ink#twcpoetry#blessedfriend#bre#writers#poet#.com#home#sunrooms#sunsets#big smit
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buried alive.
it’s already been sixteen years since you shut your eyes for the last time
they etched your face into a grave and always tell me i look the same
maybe that’s why they always say i look so gray
but it’s been sixteen years since my eyes forgot how to cry
since they found a way for you to haunt me and hexed my flesh and bone
giving birth to a curse that’s kept my expressions petrified
maybe that’s why they think i’m mostly made of stone
because they etched your face over mine shortly after you died
someone must’ve known they’d be giving your ghost a home
i’ve spent sixteen years buried alive
it’s been sixteen years since they made your grave my own
and although my pain could never be shown at least they didn’t bury you alone
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anxiety.
brush my tangled hair
and hold my tangled head
tell me that you’re there
to remind me i’m not dead
my eyes are cemetery blue
beneath the sun’s last breath
your eyes are shining through
they’re the only light that’s left
but the stars just feel so far
when the sky’s a tangled mess
just tell me that you’re there
because the sun’s about to set
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twilight fireflies dance in a field of acrylic
and i've always bloomed in shades of blue
but there's magic, if you're open to feel it
tonight, these hearts are a little more full
it was always you.
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"and she said that i was the brightest little firefly in her jar"
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taking a lil break from poetry to focus on wax sealed love letters.
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quiet corners.
pretty girls in crowded places
approach me and ask my name
i’m slow flicker, call me small flame
but i fall in love like i’m a wildfire
and burn myself along the way
i like to sit in quiet corners
i find comfort in the rain
my heart’s half cemetery
and i have my father’s face
i’m haunted by obituaries
and a face etched into stone
it’s the only father i’ve known
i’m followed by storm clouds
sometimes my flame gets put out
and i wear my head down for awhile
i think today’s one of those days
where it’s kind of hard to smile
my name is stuttering wick
but you can call me ryan
or you can call
if you need
anything
at all
but most pretty girls call it quits
and walk away from quiet corners
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Naminé.
we were casting spells
inside ourselves
to break some curses
we found a magic mirror
and it almost felt perfect
the way it left our flaws exposed
we almost felt enchanted
surveying all our damage
finding harmony in everything
we awoke to our dreaming
then i spoke of my demons
and asked if i could summon them
we made plans for an exorcism
you’re my catalyst, my little alchemist
i know you’ll stop the cataclysm
we were casting spells
inside ourselves
to break some curses
we found a magic mirror
and we dared to make it perfect
by leaving all our flaws alone
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"i'll remember every word
and every silly little quirk
the way you bite your lip
pretending you're innocent"
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can my next poem just be a picture from my power rangers dino charge jumbo coloring and activity book? who makes the rules?
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