In the spectral mausoleum
Wherein the human's left me deserted;
I still wilt writeth transcendent poesy
Mine blood as the word's to be posted.

An anointed omnipresent
To luster her anticipation of mine proclivity;
She awaiteth me, behind the benevolence
As her optical's art painting's in Renoir relevance .

I revamp mine apparition
To maketh mineself to her more known;
She seeith mine black suit, unbuttoned shirt
She feeleth mine flesh, and strokes mine old bones.

All mine bad misgivings, she erases like as if at school
She's the teacher, I'm her student, though tis I breaketh rules;
Yet I do payeth attention, to this queen whoever she is
Yet thou must remember, this is all a dream, spurious wish!

Though tis just an illusion, I still hath highest Hope's
Because I'm not the other men, proudly others seeith that most;
As tis I shalt continue on, writing amour for one not around
Whoever she is, and who she might be, please release me from..

The ground................




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry