The cobwebs settled year’s ago,
the dust gathered on the table,
the placements are falling apart.

After decades of fringe and
grungy textures and dried
ink smeared on the walls my
poetry through the centuries.

My poetic heart is choking
on the ashes left behind.

My violin strings are fragile
and ready to break.

My love song flew away
on the wings of a Lark
looking for it’s heart.

This is my Vintage heart
wrapped in decay.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

I've fallen so far,
lost myself on the way down.

I flew for a moment before
crashing colliding with my
broken heart.

My pieces shattered so easily,
I couldn't find the strength
to put them back together again.

I stayed on the ground for
awhile, the mud and salt
steeped into my lungs, choking
my breath until nothing was left.

Nothing but tears.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Vibrating nerves, scratching
pain traveling up my legs.

Grinding, like sand
gritty mud stuck between
my teeth.

Pounding drums of acking
muscles beating against my
heart.

Burning swollen and red
my pain is a vision of
dreed.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

I am autistic.

I am a wondering leaf on
the breeze of experience.

I never fall because I have
love to catch me.

Being autistic has advantages too.

Like my ability to learn
is quicker and less of a job.

My creativity has no boundaries,
it's a vastness of possibilities.

My honesty is by default,
is stable and secure.

I teach others by sharing awareness.

I have brought people together,
I have helped others with mental
health issues, I've built long
lasting relationships.

Love is prosperity and success
because it builds societies
so be kind to each other and
humanity will prosper.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Upon the rising sun
my soul took flight,
as the morning rolled
in on the foggy view
beams of light woke me
with such a sight.

As the quiet atmosphere
was broken life began to
breathe and woke with
eyes wide open.

The skirt of morning lifted
upon winter's embrace.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Within the darkest hour
ghostly dreams come to life.

The chiming of the clock
the clock strikes 3
the morning rolls in
on a foggy mist and a
chilled breeze.

Like a ghostly breath,
memories linger.

A hiss can be heard from
the room across the hall,
a door creaks and the sound
of a cat running around.

The Christmas tree is decaying
the wallpaper fraying, cobwebs
cover everything.

Darkness lives here, the ghosts
from decades passed celebrating
the season all year round.

Deck the hall’s with rotten
food, drinks are dried the
alcohol evaporated years ago.

Merry Christmas you ghoulish
fiend, may your nightmares
be merry too.

This is a Christmas nightmare
come true.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

When the flowers bloom
without me, my memory
will live on through
their perfumed dreams.

From here life start’s anew,
upon the softest breeze my
ghost travels far and wide.

Every move I make,
every breeze that blows
my way, I leave a little
bit of myself behind.

This unpredictable existence
moves freely, upon my heart
strings it plays fine and
dandy.

My life vibrates into the
vastness of space, I become
a ghost blooming in the gloom.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton