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brandon-nagleyPoems
i Mine needing just to heareth her voice I pray may cometh soon The needing of me being her choice I prayeth to God's moon. ii The asking of ourn creator to protect her nightly Is a must thing, praying asking he, her he might bring In lullaby's, cry's, and screams, I'd wish she'd only see I've been held up in the rain, waiting endlessly. iii Like her, I'm a foreigner to this trotting Man showeth her naught, I giveth her mine pale skin's outting The knitting of her love Into me, instill's me tightly buckled If only she'd taketh all of me, I might smile a happy puddle. iv Though smiling only cometh when her face shineth bright When I am assured she's safe and secure, then all is alright Mine stitches needeth bandaged, shalt she seeith mine wounds? The red drip canst only floweth so long, wherein song's art true. v Though I shalt still be here abiding, as a spawn to open water I shalt even take men's ridicule, Ill taketh daily slaughter Tis I shalt be a martyr, to the amour I believeth in For I shalt tarry waiting, for that hope from mine hopelessness. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Elsa angelica dedication
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Hopeful even whilst hopeless
i Mine needing just to heareth her voice I pray may cometh soon The needing of me being her choice I prayeth to God's moon. ii The asking of ourn creator to protect her nightly Is a must thing, praying asking he, her he might bring In lullaby's, cry's, and screams, I'd wish she'd only see I've been held up in the rain, waiting endlessly. iii Like her, I'm a foreigner to this trotting Man showeth her naught, I giveth her mine pale skin's outting The knitting of her love Into me, instill's me tightly buckled If only she'd taketh all of me, I might smile a happy puddle. iv Though smiling only cometh when her face shineth bright When I am assured she's safe and secure, then all is alright Mine stitches needeth bandaged, shalt she seeith mine wounds? The red drip canst only floweth so long, wherein song's art true. v Though I shalt still be here abiding, as a spawn to open water I shalt even take men's ridicule, Ill taketh daily slaughter Tis I shalt be a martyr, to the amour I believeth in For I shalt tarry waiting, for that hope from mine hopelessness. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Elsa angelica dedication
#love#hard#waiting#elsa#miamour
brandon-nagley
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brandon-nagley
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
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