Love aww, what beauty
blossoms upon it’s roots,
fragile but still blooms.

Such thing as love,
a passion like no other.

A phantom in the night
stealing kisses from
your dreams,
love,
love,
love.

A soft touch
a shiver of passion
shimmy down your spine.
A reminder of our last
randavu, a dreamy lover
you are mine.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

"Aww, what beauty blossoms
upon it's roots,
fragile but still blooms."

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

The rose is like love,
it can ***** you
but it can also blossom.

Also

Love is like a rose
it’s rooted strongly
but it’s very fragile.

We grow upon the
foundation of love,
it keeps us grounded
and firmly attached to
our roots.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

I do not forget,
I forgive.

I use to seek my own space,
I didn’t feel comfortable
sharing my privacy,
but I grew up,
I grew out of my old jeans,
I leaned how others think,
I always am thinking
I am always pondering
deeply but try not to over think things.

I have learned how to love myself,
I can’t help someone else if
I don’t help myself first.
That was the hardest thing
for me to expect because
I am a nice person and I felt
obligated.

Higher intelligence doesn’t mean happier,
or I have more opportunities,
sometimes it can be depressing
boring and confusing, I find it
hard to relate to others because
it’s rare to have a higher IQ.
I just use my manners.

Ignorance is bliss, yes it is.
I grew up in fear of life
slowly dying because I knew
it was.

I am not ashamed to say
my intelligence is higher than
average but I will not boast
about it, there is nothing special
about understanding how the world
turns it can invoke
fear, anxiety, and pain.

I understand that
I make mistakes
that I am a fool and
I can do better
if I work for it.

I am prone to stay up late
thinking about everything
I want to finish. That’s why
I don’t like to leave my
projects unfinished.

I am intelligent enough to know
I am a fool living in
a fools society.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

I have a cure,
for the poetic disease.

Take one dip of your pen,
now write... Don't hold in your secrets
for poetry isn't a lie nor a dishonest fool.

An inky cure for the poetic disease
is all you need.

A formatted line can cure your
poetic block just don't forget to
read.  We've all gotten lost
once or twice.

I caught the poetic disease,
I am begging for more while
I am on my knees.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

Like a vine on the wall
I lingered far too long.

Aw a simple rose.

Can you smell the perfume?
It’s from slow decay
as the roses wither away.

Bloom, grow, wither
the life of a flower
so simple, so lovely.

A poet knows them well,
They inspired many with
their perfumed memories,
they linger on through poety.

The rose always in thought,
always quiet but never
silent, for you are reminded
by their perfume.

The roses inspired my
spark, it lit my wick
as I burn my reserve.
I have a long lasting
desire to write poetry.

The roses, I ponder
in rows of formatted
prose they love to grow
on my poetic tongue.
I cultivate them with
my desire to plant
my poetic seeds.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

Whispers of yesterday linger
on my mind, your presence is
like a lingering perfume.

Upon my lips you always stay,
your taste never fades.

Upon my heart you hold a tight grip,
for you are like a thorny rose
to my heart’s contentment.
It grows.

Oh how like the moon you are,
You make my heart swoon
as you sway my way.

Lovers we are,
companions in this suffering
life we live.

We grow like weeds,
two lovers entangled together
on the vine.

Oh so divine,
are such things as love.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton