My Gothic heart bleeds for you,
it bleeds poetry.

It's pooling on this digital platform,
at its base I lay.

Thorne's in cage my heart
with roots growing from its
depths my rose wilted
awhile ago.

My ghost remains.

A perfume of poetic expressions,
disaster's and clashers in my life.

I suffer and I rise,
I fall and I crawl,
I am bruised but not beaten.

My Gothic heart bleeds for you,
it bleeds poetry.

The darkening came it tried to claim
my worth with its claws of shame,
it left me with open wounds and
anxiety.

I kept crawling through the dark,
until I can see a bit of light.

It is blurry and not so bright,
it seems the dark stretches far
beyond the horizon with streams
of light shining through.

My Gothic heart bleeds for you,
it bleeds poetry.

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton