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I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.

Renee Stone

Staring into the abyss full of art – hoping for the return of a glimmer or a spark.
RENEE STONE

Art Full Hope Return Spark Staring
They tell me summer is coming, and soon we’ll be dancing on the shore. Waiting for the moonlight to light me up amongst the starlight.
RENEE STONE

Dance Light Moon Myself Stars Summer
It’s really hard to grow up wanting to provide people with resources and support and realizing that while I can and will do that – I also need more than I thought I would.
RENEE STONE

Growth Hard Myself Need People Realize Thinking
Body and mind aren’t separated. And so all these things I write, they are felt in the aches of my heart.
RENEE STONE

Body Heart Mind Myself Separate Writing
I was never lonely alone because love has come to me in many forms, and one of them was you.
RENEE STONE

Alone From Lonely Love Myself Yourself
And I saw forever in your eyes ’til the sunset started to dim your light. You told me you’d always hold me tight, but your warmth faded with the bright.
RENEE STONE

Bright Eyes Forever Hold Light Myself Start Warm
Somewhere the silence resonates, the clutter clears, and you’re set to start again.
RENEE STONE

Patience Resonate Silence Start Yourself
I bear the fruits of your memory in the expression of my art for that is what you gave to the world.
RENEE STONE

Art Expression Fruit Memories World Yourself
You wonder why you didn’t do it sooner – why you didn’t clear your mind when the clouds loomed.
RENEE STONE

Clear Cloud Mindset Wonder Yourself
I overwhelmingly write from sadness – in songs, in prose, in verse.
RENEE STONE

Promise Sadness Song Verse Writing
My body is a field site of muscle memory and weathered bones.
RENEE STONE

Body Bone Memory Muscle Myself
Reading has always been my sweetest escape, but I write to convey that which I want to escape or what scares me to say, even if it’s something positive.
RENEE STONE

Escape Myself Positive Reading Scare Sweet Writing
We walk in circles, never knowing when to end the cycle our hearts put us in.
RENEE STONE

Circle Heart Ourselves Walk
I spill words among pages so that I can’t say my thoughts are stuck in cages. Can’t say I didn’t let it out when I can say for sure I wrote it down.
RENEE STONE

Myself Thinking Word Writing
I’m writing on a blank page full of chances and hope.
RENEE STONE

Chance Hope Myself Page Writing
I carry on knowing that when I deteriorate, my body will be a museum of all I can do and all that hindered me.
RENEE STONE

Body Carry Death Museum Myself

I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.

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I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.

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