Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Interior by Ryan Stone

There's a hollow man
who haunts me, a spectre
at my door, watching
from the shadows
as I slip from daytime
layers. Borne on the wild
flowering of my thirteenth spring,
he's a constant invader,
a taker of things
not offered, a betrayer
of all I could have been.






Ryan Stone is a freelance writer from Melbourne, Australia.  He shares his home in the blue Dandenongs with his wife, two young sons and a German Shepherd.  His poetry has recently appeared in Writers' Forum Magazine, Black Poppy Review, Goodreads, Cafe Aphra and an anthology or two. On daily walks through his forest surrounds, he often peers down rabbit holes.

4 comments:

  1. "...the wild flowering of my thirteenth spring..." What a beautiful, unforgettable line.

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