Author: Ryan Stone
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What Stays
The house didn’t fallwhen they left.The kettle still boils,the dog still waitsfor your voice in the morning. Time to forgetthe way you bent to fitwhat was never built for you. The sky hasn’t stoppedits slow turning.Magpies still sing.You breathe.Something holds. This isn’t the end.It never is.The right onewon’t ask you to shrink.What stayswill staywithout being…
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Sin Town
It only exists when the sun goes downand the signs flicker to life—neon lips, dice rolling, Girls Girls Girlsgyrate in pulsing pink. The gutters gleam,slick with rain or something worse.The footpaths hum with heels and hunger. No one’s from here.Everyone’s just passing through—folded cash, fake names and bad habits.Cabbies don’t question—they know where to stop,won’t…
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Kintsugi Morning
The bowl is still cracked,but gold glintsin early light. Steam from the tearises—a soft unravelling. Outside, the plum treeshakes offa single blossom. You are nowhere,and stillI pour two cups. Ryan Stone
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She Named the Stars Out Loud
We pulled off somewherepast the edge of signal,dust curling like smokebehind the tyres. She climbed the bonnet barefoot,leaned back with a bottle of waterand a grinlike she’d stolen it from a god. Said she used to bean astrologer.Said Orion was her first crushand she still wrote him letterswhen it rained. I told her I didn’t…
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They Meet There, Still They Meet
They meet there, still they meet,Where sand gives way beneath bare feet;No words are said, no vows are sworn,Just lips that know what silence mourns—They meet there, still they meet. The moon bends low to kiss the wheat,The stars hang close, the air smells sweet;He brushes leaves from tangled hair,She laughs as if no one’s…
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Daisy
It had no rightto be growing there—in the cracked seambetween the house and the path,where runoff pooledand the dog pissedand nothing green should last. But there it was.One daisy.Tilting toward the heatlike it believedin something. Not bloomingexactly,just holding on,a yellow eyein a worldthat never looked back. I could’ve crushed iton the way to the bin.I…
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Choke Town
The butcher’s sign still swings,though the shop’s been guttedsince Gaz ran a hose from the tailpipeand left the lights on. The school gate’s rusted open.Wind sifts chalk dustthrough cracked windowswhere names once lined the rolllike prayers in hell. Down at the silo,kids mainline in the shadowof grain that never came.One girl carved a starinto her…