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Once I got so lost that I almost flew.
But that was just the time I spent dancing with you.
Our dance was like a cha-cha but not so flowy or smooth.
It was like screaming at eachother, me telling him which one to choose, but with nicer words and cues.
Trouble was eventually due.
We were only (mentally) damaging eachother.
The only thing I was good for, was agreeing with you.
The only thing you were good for, was telling me things I already knew.
Yes you made me feel special, I can't deny that. I didn't do anything.
I couldn't even sit on your lap.
Oh and then you knew.
Who you were going to choose.
What was I good for?
Nothing but to pursue.
All of it untrue.
A year who made me who I am now.
Mine Jane, to whom do I compareth thee?
To the moon's, sunset's, star's; ancient sea's?
Thou art the rose of the Philippines, the heat
To mine *****. O' mine woman, thou art the
Divine, the release of dopamine in mine
Dismayed mind; thou art so fine mine dear,
In every calendar season. With thee I laugh
With none questions nor reason's, thy
Countenance is of the ethereal race;
O' dearest, mine pet, one day ourn heart's
Shalt beat in one stage. Darkness shalt be
Trampled under ourn wild toes,
Singing song's, speaking hymn's
Saints do only know. Mayest
Ourn caru grow, mayest god
Bless ourn love, elated
by eachother's word's
Of hope, babes of the
Same yolk; apparition's
Of the same cloak,
Vibrant in color.

©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley, (àgapi mou) dedication
Thee- you
Thou- you
Art- are
*****- has many definitions this one is- used to refer to the chest. Of men and women.
Countenance-a person's face or ****** expression.
Mayest- may.
Caru- welsh word for love.

Day late on Jane's ten month anniversary poem our anniversary was on ninth already made her something yesterday made her a cute romance comic strip that's funny lolll today poem .. least I try though not best lol!!!! Will be posting this to SoundCloud in about 20 mins if wanna hear it at
SoundCloud .com type my name brandon Nagley will find this poem there!
Thanks for reading dear poets!!!!
You've made no effort
For me
But every effort to lift a bottle to your ******* mouth.

I love you
Im sorry
I miss you
Do not act as a get out of jail free.

You've sullied
And affection.

You've made me the thing
You never wanted me to be
By never choosing me
Over superfluous drinks.

Tummy aches
Early starts
Never get in the way of you
And the thing that matters most.

If only I were on tap,
But I'm not the right blend.
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I was just kidding!"
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I'm sorry."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I don't know what I was thinking."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I was stupid."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I miss you."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I love you."
I'm not a hopeful person but I hope that one day you understand I wanted to give the world to you.
I still do.
 Jun 2016 Nathaniel Brenner
document  the hours passed
with the emptying bourbon glass
you told me that you don’t like bars
so I left in the back seat of your car
I told myself that I wouldn’t drink this much tonight.
but tonight you won’t stop looking at me
you won’t stop tracing my cheek
and I wouldn’t want you to anyways.
I wonder when the neighbors will wake up
will they still have rings of their makeup
pressed onto their lover’s neck?

I thought I wanted to stay 18 forever
but then we wouldn’t have a forever
in the living room, sipping whiskey on your couch
waiting for the world to just slow down.
but if you could stop to listen
you could hear everyone’s existence
balancing delicately on the seconds running by.
our forever is tonight.
Oh you are coming, coming, coming,
How will hungry Time put by the hours till then? —
But why does it anger my heart to long so
For one man out of the world of men?

Oh I would live in myself only
And build my life lightly and still as a dream —
Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts
And colored like stones in a running stream?

Now the slow moon brightens in heaven,
The stars are ready, the night is here —
Oh why must I lose myself to love you,
My dear?
His language would be his skin,
Rubbing against mine--desirous.
His words would be his fingers
Slowly parting the opacity,
Of my febrile, trembling body,
And entering me steadily, ceaselessly
Between my widened eyes and breathy gasps
Of dialogic, intellectual *******...
If Literature was a man.
 May 2016 Nathaniel Brenner
One day
I'll write poetry that
does not echo in his honor,
or shatter hearts like his hands
so unforgivably did.

But unfortunately,
and as misfortune may have it,
these words still breathe for him.
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