Jealousy is a loaded gun,
And you made each of their names
Bullets in my chamber.

The end of the barrel
Kisses me softly,
Between the eyes,
Where you used to.
And as you twirl them all round in a Russian Roulette
My finger quivers over the trigger.

Sweat makes it impossible to grip
And thinking back makes it
Impossible
To think forward...
What next?

You cocked it,
The gun,
So I'm ready to go.
I think...

Until, you reach out and try to save me.
Your hand touching mine
Losens my grip on the gun,
My finger becomes limp and I come back to life as
Your promises disarm me,
Your reassurance unloads the gun and
The bullets become evanescent in your kiss.

I've waited a while to write this;
Dreamed of it for years.
I've waited a while to write this;
Screamed over it with tears.
I've waited a while to write this
Several years at least.
Ladies and gents to you I present my final masterpiece.

I can't help but wonder
What could have been
Because when our lips first touched
I found a light within

Living in a world so dark
My patience runs thin
That to meet again
I'm willing to commit the one and only, deadly sin

Weeds that grow, wind to and fro
We cannot let them go,
I can not let them go.

Abrasively dismayed
By the ones, with whom she played.

Winding up a glaze,
To cover eyes at which you gaze.

Melting forests, tied with old
Thoughts and feelings, poured the mold,
Upon which hardships now behold.

Carry on your storm,
For it is why the sky was born.

I am learning to walk, just like you.

The bruises on my hands and feet are only there because of trips and falls;

where as one might stay down, I choose to try again.

Feeling guilty and worthless, it's hard to keep going the more I fall.

For it feels as if I'm opening up a closed wound, allowing it to fester and ache again in the dry air of the world.

I need to regain my balance once more.

Oh Lord please help me.

Tarry I shalt, for ye mine dame. Whither thy nature goest; To shalt I followeth by intuition. Onuppan the van Gogh atmosphere, shalt we be interlaced, I canst sense thy trail; A grail of a holy special place. We art not physically as one at the moment, but by mine death and beyond I shalt meeteth thee. Lord, I beseech ye to maketh a way for me and mine lass, to become as one, under the sun; in these time's of slow and fast. All do I giveth to be with her heavenly father; Mine blood, mine sight, mine hearing, mine life. Mine aorta befoldeth her red pulse; I am her lord, tis she is me. As tis I shalt waiteth to toucheth, kisseth,holdeth her whilst she sleepeth. Tarry I shalt; for ye mine Jane, mine soulmate, we art one. One in the same.


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