Red armchair in the back
of the independent clothing
store with three of your friends
piled up in it dressed like zombies,
trying not to get the fake
blood - sweet, sticky, and the
wrong shade of red - on any
of the merchandise. You
signed your names on their
wall with the confidence that
some things last forever.
A few years later you hear that
the store closed, a little too
independent for the locals, and
you wonder if you're feeling
nostalgic or just hungry.

You know what rhymes with day?
                                            gray

Maybe I needed words to confirm
whisper them when it's your turn
mouth me from across the room
E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T J-U-I-C-E
is the same as I love you
deceive me with mammals
as I play piano
pouring my heart upon the keys
do with me as you please
"I'm yours, I'm yours"
rings out the chorus
the deafening silence
of love unrequited.

A boomerang that doesn't come back
a runaway train on broken tracks
maybe I should have held onto words
not listened to the singing birds
that told me you felt the same
how could I believe your heart was tamed
for I am no ringmaster
a gazelle that's wandered into foreign pastures
I was your prey
yet I was bold
for the words I say
are seldom told
with such earnest longing
so behold
I L-O-V-E Y-O-U

I want to tell him
that I’m scared,
that I’ve been here before.
And that the last time I felt potential like this it imploded;
I imploded.
But I don’t want to taint it,
You see I’m still hopeful
That maybe this time
Won’t end up laced with maybes,
Or what ifs,
Or open wounds pouring blood onto paper.
That maybe this time,
just won’t end.

I’ve not quite worked out whether I think it’s beautiful,
Or stupid -
The human capacity,
And pliancy,
And longing,
For love.

i.

An enthusiast of Japan
With her love of detective conan;
She loveth YouTube, and small thing's cute
Her voice is uplifting, maketh a lame man start moving.

ii.

From the ancient province
Of Misamis Occidental;
In the northern Mindanao region
Her birth was preordained, not accidental.

iii.

Her favorite color's yellow
And looketh **** in yellow dress;
Though I love her also in black
And red she's a Filipino conqueress.

iv.

I knoweth all about her
Inside and all out;
She's a present wrapped in palm's
She's mine soulmate, no doubt.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication (soulmate)