He's the thorn and I am the rose.

Black lips with candle drips,
waxy fire melting heart's together.

Vintage paper scattered the room,
ink smeared across the wall's,
a poet fell in love.

Books torn, yellowed, and burned
like her heart it turned into
unspoken word's.

A love affair with a poet,
is like a spoiled child
crying for attention,
the poetry gets gritty
and she smuged her love
all over the place.

You can see it on her face,
a poet fell in love.

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton