Stell Ryser Poems

He was mine.
The way he held me tight.
He was mine.
The way his warm lips kissed my frostbitten ones.
...

he thought he was a mystery, a closed book with a sticker that read "damaged."
she saw him as more, more than a broken man and more than a disorder.
she saw the heart that was his, torn and ripped at every edge by greedy hands and cursed lips.
he spoke with words that built up a wall.
...

You're not my boyfriend, you're my best friend, but that doesn't mean I can't get jealous when I feel you slipping away. When you can clearly see in my eyes that I'm hurting inside, and you act like it's not there. That hurts the most because I know in the past you could tell instantly. When you talk to me it's like you don't even notice anything anymore.
What happened?
Was it me?
Did I lose your interest?
...

He is not like anyone else.
He does not act, speak, talk, or think like anyone else.
He does not come close to the dream guy girls or guys may imagine.
He does compare to the ones you may read about in books or see in movies.
...

Tell me how she was worth shattering my heart,
Tell me how the second you saw a chance with her you took it.
Tell me how undressing her with your eyes felt while I was in the back of your mind.
Tell me how you felt when she mentioned my name, Reminding you I was supposed to be your one and only.
...

If I pretend it's not there I don't have it.
I have no problems, what are you talking about?
My issue? Oh, it's not so bad, it's nothing.
I'm this way because I was treated the same way.
...