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 Oct 2015 Lucy Ryan
sanch kay
i like writing you poetry -
at 2 am, night lights glowing through
rain streaked windows, i listen to the city
and wish you'd listen to me.

i like writing you poetry -
angsty little love notes where
every word betrays the cool countenance
i otherwise wear on my face when
we're warring with our words but
teasing with our tongues.

i like writing you poetry -
it's where i can tell you the stories
that belong to the dead of the night
and the dead of my heart.

i like writing you poetry -
because it's the only way
i can tell you that i love you
*without you ever having to know.
hello, love.
 Oct 2015 Lucy Ryan
Nessa dieR
I am like ice, while he is my fire
Now do you understand my hot desire?
But it becomes harder to hide my cold feet
and pretend not to love his exceeding heat.
Is it my fault I don't want a heart frozen cold?
Is it my fault don't believe what I've been told?
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, to a fire, is never suffice.

but isn't my love enough to change their minds?
Isn't this love like none you'll ever find?
 Sep 2015 Lucy Ryan
Nessa dieR
Why is my love
Above so much treason,
So much hatred,
So much reasons why this pain I feel
Is filled by you and i?
 Sep 2015 Lucy Ryan
Rapunzoll
Mirage
 Sep 2015 Lucy Ryan
Rapunzoll
Innocence is the days when
I thought that monsters
lived under the bed rather
than slept right beside me.

It was the times I feared
heights almost as much as
I now fear brooding stares.

Back when I thought
passionate love was the
only kind worth having
— that I now wish for a
lover who loves quietly.

Innocence was thinking
danger was an ill-advised
adventure, not a man.

It was admiring a tornado
heart and not realizing the
damage it would cause.
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