I came across my reflection....

The marks you left
Had faded
And no matter how hard I stared,
Or how much I blinked,
I could not make the stain
Of your lips
Reappear.....

And so,
I touched myself
Just there,
But didn't flinch,
Could not feel the ache of your bite,
Your kiss....
Nothing but a ghost
Haunting my skin...
Teasing me with chills,
Reminiscent of your tongue.....

You were missing...

I was missing you....

©MV

can't say have found it
though trying every bit
now in broken wing

an eluding greying wish
one thread of missing piece
i'm still searching.

from all the cluttered mess
doors windows address
sky and trodden ground

beg this weakening arm
to have it hold it firm
what's nowhere to be found.

from surround's all the sight
daylight darkened night
milky way and stars

seek these rolling eyes
unravel from disguise
that hidden universe.

feebled though this mind
crushed by daily grind
inching to depart

might one day lift the shroud
hear its voice speak loud
reach the mystery's heart.

i remember when the people i know
became the people i knew. it started in high school,
kids i’d grown up with dropping off the face of the planet before anything could hold them here; like they were hoping to die
early enough that we could all pretend they’d never been here at all.
we all wanted to erase ourselves. sometimes
i get jealous of the people who succeeded.

I’m what they call a,
“Functional.”
I still shave
And later scratch the burn atop
My, “apple.”

I’m what they call a,
“Functional.”
I wake up. I go to work.
I hate copy-machine jams.
And I hate my boss.

I’m what they call a,
“Functional.”
In China, poets often drink.
I drink,
Therefore I’m in China.

I’m what they call a,
“Functional.”
Which doesn’t excuse,
It creates my, “excuse,”
At the least, to wander.

And I’m what they call a,
“Functional.”
If I weren’t, I’d never sleep;
I’d never live, never dream,
And’d never know you.

Curiouser
And
Curiouser
I follow you
down
  down
    down
      Into the most
       Odd little world of
         Madness and magic
           Jubjub and Jabberwocky
              Red-painted white roses;
                 Such a beautiful adventure
                      I have only dreamt about.
                    Still I'm bothered by how,
                   Even in a place like this,
               You only think of the time.
            My dearest white rabbit,
         I would truly hate to see
     All of Wonderland
  go and
pass
you
by.

O paranormal venue, I glance for thy direction
Wherein art thou? Cleaning up for God's inspection;
Art thou hidden? Beneath the moon and stars?
Art thou broken? Unnoticed? Thy heart like me on mar's.

O lost amour', mine soul searches the shore's
Dying daily, not seeking a Maby;
For one I rideth the beam's of color string's
For a hopeless romantic, I do plore.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

I knew I had lost you the second I found myself looking you in the eyes and still missing you. I have your hands intertwined with mine, but your heart has long escaped to find home with a face unfamiliar to me. You still fill my ears with words that could make even the sweetest of candy jealous, but they taste stale. When we started finding comfort in exploring abandoned places that had long lost the life and light that was once in them, I never thought I would have that same feeling when looking at you. When did you become so vacant? When did you stop feeling me an only touching me? When did your words become so cold that they stopped having the ability to make me melt?