Some may sayest
I'm what they
Calleth, a conspiracy
Theorist.

Verily I sayest
I'm what I calleth
A conspiracy
Realist;



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry

She showed him all her imperfections,
and he greeted them all with a kiss.
He knew all about her flaws,
but still loved her as if they didn't exist.

You will always be those slippers
and the one I talk to you in my mind
and when I'm just needing a smile
yours will be the face I find
you are the truth.. the absolute
that time can't paraphrase
the beginning and the middle
and the end of all my days  
when everything is seeming grim
when my lifes end is drawing near
ill just slip those slippers on
and say goodbye my dear.

And now I must dissect the past
And seperate every part
Every wrong decision
And every broken heart
Regrets I'll place off to the left
Unheard "I love you's" have their place
Useless dreams..they go on the right
By the memories of your face
Wasted years and loneliness
They will all go in a stack
Right beside all my love for you
Love that you never gave me back.

Oh! to hold the secret
For the souls tranquility
Whilst the earth itself may shake
And storms rise up at sea

To retreat unto it's own
Where all life's joys of past have flown
And just breathe them all back in
To  feel them right..all over again.

Every time it goes to **** a little piece of me dies with it.
Hearts break sure, but they also mend over time.
What stays broken, what breaks more than it recovers every time though,
is hope
the belief in happiness
the belief in trust
the belief that if you put your everything into something
into someone
that it will all work out in the end
that knowing you would do anything would somehow mean they would too
that they forgive as you would
that they would work at it as you would
that they are somehow as committed as you are
all these things die a little each time, and never come all the way back