My dusty mind is filled
with old memories,
lost amongst poems
I dribbled on to the window sill
one morning.

I got lost in the shuffle of time,
thoughts brought me
ink drippings from
the night before,
though I already ate
the leftovers and smeared
my poems all over the walls.

You may join me
for a Gothic meel,
just don't forget to bring
your open minds
so I don't have to knock
or ring the bell.

Welcome to my gloomy day,
where black is happy,
blue is true, and the roses
withered at your feet
though they smell lovely.

(slowly the poems crumbled
in my mouth) the ofter taste
was lovely, a bit of gloom was
left hanging from my lips.

Such taboos I display,
should I speak in ghostly whispers,
so the spirit's can hear me too?

Shshsh!
I am not finished with you yet.

Come back soon and I will write you
another Gothic poem.

For I am the weathered poet.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton