Misery likes to keep
commiserate company.

Mixing the bowl of emotional
soup, causing overflow of
stress and anxiety.

Sympathy keeps misery company, having tea every morning. At brunch they talk about the news, all of the shadowy darkness that looms over our heads.

Aching hearts, tugging at the strings of emotionality, we’ve waltzed with our memories many times before.

Misery likes to keep busy,
commiserate likes to remind
us we’re not alone.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton

I have always wondered
what makes me a poet?

Well, I think I know.

I am able to construct
complex sentences and format’s,
I am very interested in details and being able to express my vision.

I am always pondering
on philosophy and learning,
(Why something moves like
it does exc…)

I am always interested in
the science and engineering
side of life, I want to learn
how to be like everyone else
but still be myself.

My interest in people
and communications, it is
what feeds my poetic flames.

I consider myself a philosopher and innovator of ideas.

If you want to know how
to be a poet, you have to
open your mind to
the possibility of the
idea of being a writer.

You have to ponder on
format’s and word play,
read a dictionary and
the great writers like
Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, Anne Rice, Emmy Dickinson, and other philosophers through out history and how they construct their vision.

Read more books and more books until you can’t fit anymore
into your mind.

Allow your mind to wonder,
loss yourself in the forest
of ideas you have growing
in your head. Don’t think about the limitations of your mind,
go beyond the horizon of
what you consider reality.

Your imagination is your
greatest gift.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton

Like a candle I am waiting
for my muse, you will
find me in the window
pondering, a small flame
ulluminates the room.

I am always in deep thought,
wondering the forest of ideas
I grow within my mind.

Like Alice, I am lost at times
in a poetic wonderland
formatted by my reality.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton

Painful silence scratches at my heart, leaving deep marks.

You never explained yourself,
instead you leave me in the dark.

You just left me without a goodbye, you didn’t even think about my feelings or anything else.

I don’t understand your lack of words, I am not sure what happened to you for you haven’t given me any response.

You are a theft in the night,
you silently came and stole my heart only to drop it like a piece of trash.

How can you say I love you?
After everything you have done
you dropped me, neglected me
and never gave me a reason why?

The worst type of evil is the silent kind, those who have something to hide are the silent ones, they don’t care about anything you have to give them not even your life.

I will never understand why someone would say I love you and then without any reason drop you.

Where’s the love you said you hold for me?

All I’ve got is a bucket of tears,
a painful burning, and a used mind
you left behind.

Nothing I say gets through to you,
it’s like talking to a brick wall
or quicksand my words fall in but never comes out.

You stole my heart and my everything, with no remorse for the damages you caused me.

You should be ashamed of yourself.
I call you my love because
that’s what you are to me.

Sadly you don’t hear a word I speak, your too busy judging me.

My love is sick.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton

Love is like a candle
it doesn’t last without
a flame.

It burns so fast, it turns
into memories of smoke
that lingers for only a moment
before it fades.

You are left with a half burnt wick
and a used up waxy stick.

Ashes are smeared on the table
while a heart lays in its own blood
beating one last time before
dieing.

You can blame love for the damages
but never suit for love doesn’t
care for you.

I have made my peace with the world,
but not love for love always
comes back on its hands and knees.

I fell head over heels so many times,
the bruises on my knees haven’t healed from the fall.

Love punishes me.

© 2019 By Amanda Shelton