Realizing now that I'm not okay, and that's okay

Kisses between conversations,
Red roses and dark chocolate,
Beautiful gowns and flashing lights,
Fierce, wild, reckless love,
This was their life.

Residing in the sleepless city,
Showered with money, fame, and splendour:
The golden boy and the magical girl.
They had it all, they did,
Youth and life to them was forever.

Yet on one silent morning
As the sun rose,
They staggered home, slightly drunk,
Coming from some grand party in Long Island.

They look outside to the sea of buildings.
She pointed out the newspaper vendor below,
He pointed out the lady sweeping the street,
They watched a little happy family stroll along the sidewalk.

Then together, they asked themselves silently:
*What now?

meeting you
was finding a pond
after years
of knowing only desert

My old friend, you've done it again.

You turn the lights out when I can finally see,
You stain my fingers with ink you use to write me letters so cruel,
You scream at me deafening words of hatred,
You let tears flow from my eyes without a sense of pity,
You point out my wrongs the way you like to pick the prettiest flowers,
You push me into the smouldering flames then you're in awe of the way I glow,
You slit me with a blade and watch the blood flow, you say it's as beautiful as waves dancing.  
And you do it, over and over again.

Believe me, I wish I could let you go.

I try to run away in the dead of night
To get rid of you, to forget you

You never seem to leave.
You follow me like shadows on asphalt,
You leave your traces in my favorite blouses,
You vandalize my bedroom walls,
You lurk in the corners I confine myself to,
You're in each window I pass by,
You hide under the sheets I sleep in,
Your sobs echo through my ears in the middle of the night,
You're in the mirrors I look away from,
You're in me.

You are me.

A poet Jot's word's
Even whilst being broke;
A poet writeth his last stanza
In his deathbed whilst he chokes.

A poet in the living
Beyond his death;
The poet recites Poe
Whilst quoting Macbeth.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry