Burn Mark

What Stays

The house didn’t fall
when they left.
The kettle still boils,
the dog still waits
for your voice in the morning.

Time to forget
the way you bent to fit
what was never built for you.

The sky hasn’t stopped
its slow turning.
Magpies still sing.
You breathe.
Something holds.

This isn’t the end.
It never is.
The right one
won’t ask you to shrink.
What stays
will stay
without being begged.

Ryan Stone

It started as a scribble
in my yearbook
and ended
with an apology,
of sorts:
I wish I’d been more,
held your hand
when it mattered

and even
when it didn’t.

Ink lasts longer
than schoolyard dreams,
wilted
before their bloom.
Notes we wrote
lend breath
to ghosts,

long after
pens fall still.

In this cold place
I see your face
as it was behind the gym,
where your lips
once tasted

of blackberries
and sunshine.

Ryan Stone

In the photo I keep in my wallet
you’re smiling. No hint of ghosts
in the glint of your eye.

You’re sitting on a riverbank
weaving a daisy chain
I wore until it crumbled–

linking flower to flower
with the unblemished certainty
that beauty and vows are forever.

Ryan Stone

Adrift in deep space,
an astronaut lost, no wind
to feather still sails.

Oblivious world
uncaring turns, in silence
as oxygen fails.

Ryan Stone

You were everything.
Your smile
Lit sparks
That raced
Down my spine,

My heart skipped a beat
When you
Spoke to me.
The world paused
So we could run free.
You seemed so divine

For a time.

Things always change.
Forever’s a dream,
Every summer
Has rain.
I stopped being
The light in your world,

Once again
You’re a mystery girl.
I know you’ll find love,
I know you’re not mine,
But I want you to know
I was yours

For a time.

Ryan Stone