Shelby Lynn

suddenly i’m dancing to imaginary music SIGNED POETRY COLLECTIONS available on thornsandwildflowers.com 🩷

[nixscriptum]

[writingmadly]

i spend so much time

writing from the past

because it is the only evidence

the euphoria was real

- writingmadly 'fever dreams' [burn scars & paint stains] <unreleased>

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[writingmadly]

how strange it is

to be strangers once again

when your hold was once familiar

how strange

that theres no hard feelings

yet a stern disconnect all the same

how strange

seeing your family in church

and what joy it brings

how strange

we gave eachother a day each week

a seven month long secret

becoming an unspoken elephant

standing between us

in a church parking lot

how strange

to care for your wellbeing

yet having no business knowing

- writingmadly 'a strange close' from the burn scars & paint stains files [unreleased]

my SIGNED poetry collections are on sale here🌸

'No Rain, No Flowers' Signed Collection

The entire 'No Rain, No Flowers' poetry collection signed bundle !! Includes:  Call It What You Want Clouds Amongst the Stars Free Falling T

[writingmadly]

for those mourning who they were before chronic illness...

[writingmadly]

Burn Scars & Paint Stains coming october 31🪻

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[writingmadly]

i will forever greive

who i could have been

had my injuries not taken so much time away

every lab test submitted

and IV received

each vital recorded

and dose of medication

has taken so many

of my midnights and afternoons already

more and more often

a tornado spins in my brain

on my way to the bathroom at night

bringing the floor rushing to my face

as i barely catch myself in time

who could i have been

without the ache burrowed in my tissues

and numbness spreading like a freezing lake beneath my bluing skin

who could i have been

if id stayed capable of independence

who could i have been

if i was able to enjoy living on my own

never fearing the next time

the floor rushes to my face

and the possibility i don't catch myself

writingmadly [Burn Scars & Paint Stains (unreleased)]

[writingmadly]

someday, my green eyes will meet your chocolate irises again

and when you lift your paw in greeting

i'll reach out for your hold

we can race down the street in the rain

and jump over the puddles one more time

because in our heaven

it will always be monsoon season

you'll still sniff hello to passers by

and i'll rave about your sweet smile

the day we said goodbye

will be a distant memory

because someday my green eyes will meet your chocolate irises again

- 'bear i' for my childhood pup🐾

[perfectfeelings]

“Take the lover who looks at you like you’re some kind of magic.”

— Frida Khalo

[writingmadly]

my heart houses a garden

home to many grave stones

marking each version of me

i've had to shed

with each new chapter God has given me.

i often make a habit

of visiting these bones.

rain or shine,

i lay in the grass and make promises.

"i'll make these chances count."

i told my mother i may never see my thirties,

and in a way i told the truth.

these parts of me,

most left around me never got to meet.

so i say hello at late hours,

after the sun has set the sky under violet flames

and the stars give the stones an indigo glow.

i tell them all about the life

they died in order to create.

some chapters are coated in acrylic paint,

others in black ink, torn pages clinging to their skin.

one is soaked in her own blood,

another in a perpetual state of only half lucid,

the pills creating a haze over her pain.

but each and every version of myself

i carry in my shadow.

they all deserve to know

in the end,

this pain is worth it.

' my name already marks many gravestones ' by writingmadly | burn scars & paint stains

signed copies of my poetry collections available on thornsandwildflowers.com !! 🎀

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Thorns & Wildflowers Co.

[writingmadly]

i spent nearly all my adolescent years

& early adult days

begging the universe for peace.

i longed for a silence

empty of tense danger waiting for an excuse to snap.

i wanted slow mornings

and desired nights lacking social gatherings.

i now find myself in a quiet apartment,

a nearly non-existent circle of friends,

and hollow drive.

the price of protecting my peace

seems to be what fed my creativity.

my fingers ache,

longing for a force as strong as the rage i’ve finally cut loose.

maybe creators need their chaos.

maybe my greatest loss

wasn’t just the girl i was before my war,

but the soldier i became to survive.

this healing ghost i’ve become

seems to be the emptiest version of myself i’ve met.

i should learn to write of my morning coffee

and barefoot walks through sun warmed grass.

but all i can think is

what have i to write,

if my anguish has seized,

and the storm has passed

leaving me with closing wounds

and a feeling of safety so forever longed for,

let brewing in me a fear unrecognizable?

what if i’m only talented

when my mind is bleeding out

behind this people pleasing smile?

'ghost iii' (burn scars & paint stains <unreleased>) writingmadly

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Thorns & Wildflowers Co.

[paper-wounds]

[writingmadly]

i love you

the way i love october rains

a welcome refresh

to end the summer scorch

i love you

the way i love sprayed edges

on a special edition book

i love you

the way i love the smell of fresh coffee

sometimes being the best part of my day

i love you

they way i love walking barefoot through the grass

being one with the earth we were meant to appreciate

i love you

the way i love forests of pine trees

bringing me back to some of my fondest memories

i love you

the way i love the first rays of sunshine

burning through the winter storms

and bringing life back to wilted flower beds

i love you

the way the strum of a guitar or a string of piano keys

opens my chest and tingles my fingers

begging for me to return to the hobby

i love you

the way i have grown to love slow days

having no plans but to rest

and enjoy any number of the things i just mentioned

because loving you

has shown me how much there is to love

about the life i was given a second and third chance at living

and i love you

for teaching me the best lesson i could have asked for

and staying long enough to watch me learn how to smile again.

- writingmadly 'the poem i didn't know how to write until two years after you'd found me'

[inkcobwebs]

i just want to be heard without screaming

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚

[mournfulroses]

Bianca Stone, from a poem titled "Set Designer," featured in What Is Otherwise Infinite: Poems

[nothingspecialjustasoul]

I’m not sad, just empty in a way that doesn’t go away.

[writingmadly]

safety beneath your hands

is spread thighs

an arched back

and seeing stars behind closed eyelids

before drifting off to dreamless slumber

- writingmadly ( burn scars & paint stains -unreleased-)

[writingmadly]

my body is far too small to carry the amount of pain i do

- writingmadly (free falling through thorns and wildflowers : a poetry collection)