where is the wisdom
of my earlier worlds
giving me the illusion
I knew what I was saying

the years since then
have taught me insights
       unexpected  inconvenient
the wisdom of old age  maybe

yet I don't find again
the certainty of youth
forever lost
in the complexities of living

Once upon a time I was happy,
wishful and strong.

But you came walking in on
a heart string, vibrating
reality until I got dizzy.

I started to fall,
my walls weakened
and crumbled underneath
your crushing waves.

The vision of you became
a monstrous view.

I began panicking trying to
run away from you.

The constant nagging and
emotional abuse beat me
until I was a bruised
damaged muse.

My fire started to fade,
you stole my kindling
and claimed it as yours,
you choked my flames.

All that remains is ruble
and ashes, the ruins from
passed failed attempts to
save our relationship.

You failed it all,
for cigarettes
and a quick fix.

You're not the sharpest tool
in my shed, you're weak and
rusted nothing can clean your
crusted heart.

It fell apart before you
came knocking on my door.

You are a faded memory of what
we could have been.

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton

They tell me one day
I would know what it feels like
They tell me one day
I will finally get it right

They tell me one day
I would find my own happiness
They tell me one day
I will get out of this phase

But one day seems far away
As the seasons keep changing
But one day seems far away
Because I still feel very lonely

But one day seems far away
As my mind taunts and belittles me
But one day seems far away
As a reason for me to live

up to family and friends,
as a conquest -
the prize he has won.
But does he hold her up
when her womb is full of son?
When stretch-marks cross her belly
and childbirth leaves her tummy
wobbly as jelly?

He holds her
hand walking in the moonlight.
Under the stars he sweeps her off her feet.
But does he hold her hand
when she's old and not as sweet?
When wrinkles cover her skin
and her hair is grey and thin?

He holds her
in reverie,
google-eyed rhapsody.
But does she become a memory
once he sees reality?

miles davis blowing sad
and in the ruins of his room
among the empty beer cans

the room where the floor is tilted
like the fun house floor

he wrote his poems
on the back of over due bills

on paper plates flung out the window
like dying daffodils

on those orphaned buildings
on cookman ave


the click clack
and the sad echo
off his duct taped boots
drifting off empty stores

in the soulless town
he gave a heart

the man
axe in hand
chasing tommy down 5th avenue

too soon the night has found you

too soon you left this earth