“I don’t want to be your one that got away, but it’s not like you wanted me to stay. And I feel myself getting further away, day after day. I  didn’t want that goodbye, neither do I want it to say. It’s a goodbye, without any good in it and it feels like punishment for loving you this way. However, you may not say that I am the one that got away, today or any other day. Yet perhaps you will one day. One day, one hard for you day, maybe you’ll reach out for me, maybe I’ll say, I’ve been waiting to hear you say these words, and come what may I am here to stay and ask, why is there hell in hello and good in goodbye? And look deep in your eyes to hear your reply, and see what you say on that day.”

“Rinehart’s Poetry” by Ryan L. Rinehart

All these painted faces, shaded and contoured, brushed on beauty, with the skills of an artist to conceal or reveal what is or isn’t actually there. A painted face can be beautiful indeed, but a true beauty doesn’t need such a thing. I guess for me it’s always been about the natural girl, how seeing her freckles or flaws makes her more like me, closer to me, more real to me. Also in my opinion, when a natural beauty gets made up it can be breath taking as well, because there was already beauty there, there was already the self aware and self worth behind underneath there. I will always fall for the classic beauty, the simple perfections of being imperfect but with a sophistication that no beauty product could come close to convey, conceal, or in other words, I love a woman who is real.

Sometimes in life we put ourselves on pause, out of fear and the pain that was already caused in our lives. Why do we punish ourselves this way? I for one am tired of it all, the shutting down, the taking the time before we move on. Now, I know you need to get right to be right, all I am saying is why not move on faster, develop these skills and coping mechanisms that have you bounce back even harder. I am finally there in my life, I will give my all to someone, the minute they stop it from flowing is the minute it’s over. Think of it like this for every failed relationship, you’re that most closer to the one that will work. So here too am I, learning to say hello once again, except this time I healed faster. I searched myself, prioritized myself in goals, and taking the steps to achieve them. Now if I can do it, so can you, being a victim so to speak of multiple TBI’s, my brain isn’t what it used to be. But in a natural sense, my body and heart some how have learned to cope and deal with life. I never said it was easy, but damn sure possible. So as I am learning to say hello, you might as well say it back. Hello.

In her scars I found my stitches. That’s the thing I suppose that became the ties that bind between her and me. I knew her past, I knew her rough patches, her dark days and disasters, yet I too had been on the same paths. Appreciating the being broken and becoming self made. Life isn’t always easy, it will leave its mark, but without it I wouldn’t have found my stitches closing her scars.

“I am starting to think that there are some women who can’t handle having an attractive guy. Like they need ugly to look pretty next to!

  • Ryan L. Rinehart

Me and this old guitar. Hey we go back real far. Maybe we should head out to a local bar and see what kind of songs can come from these emotional scars.

Her lips must have contained a potion, some kind of concoction, because in one kiss I was lost and found to be hers alone.  Captured in a rapture, spellbound and delirious, all my selfishness was destroyed in one lip on lip event.

So after all that time and attention

You are now moving on but forgot to mention

That this love affair was just a fling

Silly me to think it would end in rings

The words you left in notes and in my ears

Well they’ve decayed and became my worst fears

Sad to say after that last call we didn’t talk after that day

Yes sad to say your words decay


What music does for the heart she did for my soul. Love notes in melodies, composed into symphonies, into sing a long plays, never a tragedy but triumphs for all to see. Her loving me was perfect lyrically, loving her back was the death of me, I was no longer who I used to be. Her, in her ways, sang to me, captured my essence and then changed me. We are two notes who fit together musically.

It just called to me, beckoning with one hand to come here and the other pointing right to me. So I ventured forth to see what it wanted and it grabbed me, it chained me down and here I have remained since. It’s name was writing and my shackles are the pen and paper that bound me forever. My blood is the ink that spews and spills upon the page, my heartbeats are the punctuation, and if you listen you can hear my soul whispering in the scroll. It was years ago that writer’s apparition entrapped me to this life, this death, this purgatory like existence. I cherish every minute of this experience, the causality of its effects. Forever I will be haunted undaunted to write and create, for when I was grabbed by the writer’s apparition, it sealed my fate. – Ryan L. Rinehart