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Dry
.
It
is
true,
you are
totally right.
I'm as dry as
a desert, I'm a dead
empty land. I used to be
a  jungle  when  the  clouds
where by my side, and now that
they are gone, my trees, my dreams
they dried and died. Because of this,
nothing grows inside of me, there is
only silence and despair. I can't feel
what  I  write,  I  barely  feel alive
I want to feel human again
Oh god, I really miss
the rain
Es frustrante tener  las palabras pero no el tiempo y luego tener el tiempo y no recordar las palabras
 Dec 2018 Ryan Holden
Lumi
i am
 Dec 2018 Ryan Holden
Lumi
drowning in shallow water
and liking it just as much
as suffocating in the deep end.

because both are
terribly
deliciously
painful.

yet i am still dehydrated and denied of your appreciation
so come and swim in my waters
walk in my valleys
and drown me in your well.

because all are
terribly
deliciously
painful.
you always were one for adventure.
Dry
"Why do you put up with him?"

Because colors are intensified
When he's in my line of sight
Even the menacing hues
Are better than sepia tone

Because I'm like a flower,
And he is the sun
Although it threatens
To burn me alive

Because I forget yesterday
If he is now
The pain he'll cause tomorrow
Doesn't exist yet

Because he gives life flavor
Vibrant and complex
Which makes the bitter
Preferable to bland

Because his malice
Is juicy and sweet
And his absence
Is cold and dry

I have no business being here,
But I love it,
So I'll
Stay
This is not a poem about my husband, but rather an imagined lover
There was a time    
I was so blind    
To the pull of the rope    
And grip of the bind    
    
Before I met You    
I hadn't a clue    
Love was just friendship    
Bound to undo    
    
When you appeared    
Great love occurred
So clearly now
No longer blurred
    
Love is crazy
Like that glue    
Love is friendship
That’ll never undo  

Love is boundless
Love is true    
Nothing's as binding    
As my love for you
 Dec 2018 Ryan Holden
jenna
a letter
 Dec 2018 Ryan Holden
jenna
dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.

i try to
not panic
and quiet
sob in the
bathroom at
3:27 am
every night.

i’m hoping
disposing
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,
please.

love,

me.
it is better to regret doing something instead of not doing it at all.
 Dec 2018 Ryan Holden
Ceyhun Mahi
I know for sure
That if the pretty poet had a life
So long as parrots,
This collection of poetry,
So small compared to others,
Would have been filled with soothing dreams,
Scented with the smell of sweet flowers
Growing in the wide meadows,
Where slender nymphs do live
And little nightingales,
Singing great songs.
 Dec 2018 Ryan Holden
Arianna
Your absence erupts
In chills, tingling along my
Spine where you would be.
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