Chains rattle and bang,
dragging across my brain.

The doors creak, scratches across
the floor.

Emptiness is vast, a void creepy
and sad.

Ghosts linger here, memories of
lives passed.

They breathe decay, rust and rot.

A plume of smoke from a flame
smothered by time.

I am rooted in your deceit,
a rose with thorns.

I dream of being me, while my dreams
dream of being unique.

It is a dream within a dream,
do we ever truly wake?

A thought passes like a breath gasps
for a moment in time.

A passing phrase on a poetic gaze,
upon a heavenly sky the stars
shine and we fly.

My poetic mind opens wide,
behind my sleeping eyes lies
a feasting idea that eats prose
and verses.

Baking plots and cooking possibilities,
within my mind’s oven. I serve you my
poetic design.

©️ 2023 By Amanda Shelton