When you're shattered
you should be aware
of your sharp edges
so you won't hurt
the ones
who tries to embrace you
with a gentle & warm
smile.

A turning point in someone's life.
Either to
make you
or
break you,
just
*don't give up
to life,
especially
to love.

Anxious,

Like a spider dangling from a string,

Blowing two and fro,

Not really knowing why so anxious,

But knowing why so anxious,

Because I'm waiting on you.

It stabs like a knife
As cold strike my back
As your fingers make me twinge
As each bite a peck against my neck

It shoots like a gun
As your touch in bare skin
As your lips send jolts to my collar bones
As your words blast rainbows to my veins

It hangs like a rope
As the air in night conversations
As every stop makes me want more
As the heat surround our tangled bodies

It kills me like all of them combined
As jumping off a cliff
As drowning in an ocean
As living without you

She leaves me
with secret flowers

each has
a broken heart

and purple petals
for me to hide

and memories
I can't ....

~

She reached for the ribbons of her gown
not knowing why, but she held them in her hand
as she floated through the ever changing mist,
whites and grays in a swirling pattern,
mesmerizing in blends and shifts,
blurred yet possessing a clarity she could not explain
or cared to think about right now

She looked down on herself in her bed sobbing,
clutching tightly a dampened pillow, lonely, missing…
now confused as a peaceful awareness
wrapped about her warmly,
caressing her spirit, washing away the pain,
the sadness, the torment which she fought now to remember
as it drifted below, creating new shadows about her feet
but distant, never forgotten, she couldn’t, it was promised…

Once more the satin ribbons were pulled gently, guided
as if a feather laced kite on a silver string embracing blue skies,
dancing about in the slow rhythm, spun in clouded dreams,
breathless she soars higher, it seems towards the sun
or perhaps a light of a different source, it felt soft, cool
beckoning her and she yearned for it…
for some reason it felt right

Stars swept past her in wiry glistening designs
like a sparkler at a summer cookout waved through the air
in abstract lemonade glowings and apple pie tickles  
and she smiled, for the first time in a long time as the 
moon disappeared on the horizon, embracing this experience
She continued allowing the tender tugs on her ribbons to
move her freely, when she felt something, it was a hand on
hers, helping her hold the ribbons, it felt familiar,
safe, comforting

When she saw his eyes, as clear as she had ever seen anything,
deep and friendly, soothing
just as she had remembered…remembered?
He took her by the hands and he came even more into focus
“Hi there, I have missed you,”  he sighed and she knew it was him
He was here, wherever here was, holding her now as he said,
“I promised I would love you eternally, I couldn't have you then,
so I have waited for you"    
She cried , happy tears as she whispered. “You did, you did, is this…”

“Shhh,” he placed a caring finger to her lips…
*”This is our eternity my love”

aingeal,
Mine blood pressure when thou art near rises, not from anything bad, just a simple fact thineself maketh me tremble at thy beauty and at thine own angelic aura that surrounds thee. Thou art heaven to me, for when I looketh into thy cosmos iris, I canst seeith all creation pinpointed to a marvelous canvas portrait, and it maketh me cryeth......... Not a sadly cry, not a hurtful cry, a cry because all the grace I canst seeith in that iris, is as if God hath sent michelangelo in the core of thy lid's to showeth me a piece of heaven I've never known couldst exist here on a planet that's been ruined by it's own kind, disgustingly!!!! And looking into those michelangelo eyes of thy own, I canst seeith so much refinement and artistry, and so much love they giveth off to me, as something I've never known, I was looking into an iris of an aingeal, and thou art mine one and only aingeal sent from God to me, as I to thee...  What a blessing underserved!!!!

©By-Brandon nagley (Lonesome poet's poetry)