Traces you left on my skin
I can measure them inch by inch
Words or it was a spill of ink
Time and again, I hear them ringing
So sweet was your voice
Just made me dreaming  
I look at you and a memory haunts me
You are not the same person that once used to love me
Was our love so fragile???
That anything can break it
Or was I to fool?
What was my fault?
I couldn’t make it
Melancholy keeps me drowning
Broken promises, dreams sundering
What you had really made out of me, i keep wondering

:( :(

A lonesome castle
On amour' hill;
Lonesome and dying
None lover in the castle's windowsill.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

Yesterday and today and again tomorrow
Regrets build up from day to day
To the last moment of my waning life
And all my yesterdays have guided me
Towards my longed for death, so *******, brief candle.

Life's just a passing sideshow, poor interval
To fill in the time between TV shows and football -
So pass another beer - life's just a ragged tail
Wagged by an idiot, it's **** and *** and ***** -
And then there's **** all left.

Know you whichever tempestuous idiot declar'd
O wonder how many goodly creatures are there here
And how beautious whining mankind be?
O brave new ******* pointless world
That has such people in't or some such futility
Needeth yet her brains examining forsooth
And has ne'er seen Wolverhampton ill-lit by moonlight.

i just want to be with you
and talk about life
and your favorites;

like how you want your hair to look
or how you see yourself in ten years;
i want to find out everything there is
to know about you;

and i want to know you,
like i know myself

*v.q.

wandering aimlessly through the halls
or tears in the bathroom stall
did anyone see her fall?
no, no one at all
she's not that tall
you see the way she hides between the walls
it's not ok
what you say makes her feel like ****
you would never admit
so she stays alone
it's easier than let them know

She is a mystery,
A mystery that no one has been able to solve.

There is no telling what happens when her eyes distant itself from the world, looking and longing for something deep within her thoughts.

When her deadly silence creeps over her, leaving everyone far away from her wrath.

When she finds herself alone, blocking and pushing anyone trying to get in.

When she bottles up her emotions, leading everyone to think of something far away from what is genuinely happening.

When she strides past those who oppose her way, acting with no care in the world.

When she abruptly smiles that brightening smile of hers, and laughs that fascinating laugh, causing everyone to wonder what's going on behind her display.

When her style doesn't suite anyones, unique and different from the rest.

When she is understanding of anyones situation, curiosity spiking in everyone as to how she apprehends.

And when silence and stares occur every room she shows up in.

Everyone looks to her, baffled about this young creature.

Everyone asks her, yet no reply is answered.

She gives out the littlest emotions and information, yet only that tiny grain of salt intrigues and bewilders everyone.  

Everyone knows of her, they just do not know who she really is.

And as I said before...

She is a mystery,
A mystery that no one has been able to solve.

There is a singer eveyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past,
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.