You think you're the only one who's lying?
The only one who's pretending to smile?
The only one who's dying?
The only one who walks into a room & feels so alone?
The only one who's heartache kills them,
And they deal with it on their own?
I remember every kiss,
Every touch,
The forbiddenness,
Of every moment that we spent,
Memorizing each other's skin.
And now you look right through me,
And I smile the same old smile,
While you go on with your life
Destroying yourself inside
And I'm standing here waiting for you to realize,
Slowly killing the burning fire in my eyes.
I waited too long,
And now you don't care...
Best friends, yea, ok...
I'll pretend it's enough.
Try to make it through the day.
You're not the only one who's lying,
The only one who's pretending to smile,
The only one who's dying.
Look at me.
Just really look.

You used to say you loved the fire in my eyes,
The light in my soul,
The passion in my life.
I used to love the way you smiled,
The way you held me,
So close and so tight.
It couldn't all just be lies,
So I tore down all the walls blocking my heart,
And I let you inside.
The rhythm of your voice kept me hypnotized,
And I fell into the deep abyss of you.
Now the reason why I laughed,
And the reason why I cried myself to sleep at night,
I was your sweet sacrifice.
And now every time I watch you walk away,
A little bit of the fire in my eyes,
Slowly and surely,
Dies. away.

The poem formerly known as 'First taste of bitter' has been rewritten to reflect the lovely people who inhabit this etheral poetic wonderland that is home to many and a refuge to many - inspired by HP's own Elsa
- thank you Elsa  :))

My first taste of HP

I was welcomed right away
Day one I had three friends
Peter Hamilton, Cecil and Ana
Is where my HP journey began

From another site I'd arrived
Not seeking fortunes or fame
Just a place to share poems
With people who feel the same

I've always been so welcome here
~ always made to feel at home
Thats down to the friendly poets
Who you all are, you know.

So many, many friendly souls
My, how that list has grown
Thank you HP - I glad I came...
I no longer feel alone



Special thank also to - Poetessa Diabolica, Niamh, Coleen, Shanna, Wolf, Brandon, Evie, ridicule, Beryl Dov, Donna and Sleeping Bag. Much love to everyone who knows me. X

I
The phantom waltzes to an upbeat song,
softly, slowly, the fog creeps in,
and the men drown in the haze.

II
Through the clouded windows, it waits--watches
meanwhile, babies cry and their mothers sigh.

III
Names carved into marbled slates,
as the ghost sinks through the walls.

IV
In its silhouette the ghost pirhouettes
singing its siren song
dragging down those who can hear it

V
The bottles are empty,
the time has passed.
Luminous moon guards over the night

VI
The poltergeist cackles,
as the moon can protect no one.
They are infected with mercy.

VII
Fog trails closely behind the figure,
through the broken, battered buildings.

VIII
The city is dead.
The phantom smirks.

IX
The ghost lingers
and passes through the alleyways,
the fog dances after--following in time.

X
Night time passes in silence,
except for the ghost, singing its sad song
and there is--nothing--but death.

copywrite Shanna Howse 2012

so, I studied modernist poems in class, so I used this. My teacher didn't like that I didn't include my symbol in every stanza, so I decided to throw the original up here.

I tiptoed softly as a mouse
into the room where we would lie.
Aglow, the candles lit the house;
their sizzling sighs a lullabye.
The shadows waltzed a mourning song,
in grieving pain you moaned along.

The daunting ache I feel inside,
as painful as a lost goodbye.
I kissed your head but cringed and cried,
so haunted by your sleeping sigh.
Transparent hands caress your skin,
convulsing with regret for sin.

My longing echoes through the halls,
like wailing whispers of the wind.
Your crying paints the weathered walls,
my hollowed body, all but skinned.
Confined by mine own selfish choice,
I wish I'd listened to your voice.

From where I stand and there you sleep,
I cannot cross to hold you close.
You beckon to me as I weep,
restrained by grief; a heavy dose.
But darling, when you heard the knell
you were the heaven in my hell.


copywrite Shanna Howse and Emily Krol, 2012

I put up a flag above mine abode
To let all others knoweth I was a different soul
The flag read freak
Freak flag.....



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Inspired by Shanna Stojakovich