Books as old as time, casing as brown as my eyes
the taste of bliss and amour
a deep thud once placed on the library table
the smell of grass and that faint vanilla scent
wise and rare, beat-up and old looking
as I awoke and flung into a kingdom full of quotes.
the habit that's like a disease, for which there is no cure,
as I frown, I smile, I cry, deep within me is what I feel. a burst of emotions a vintage book could bring.

She has a vintage soul,
Full of rusty and dusty memories,
With the antique eyes
That seen some terrible events,
Her beauty reflects
the Victorian epoch,
Her wisdom is such sterling that
Vanquish the wisdom of Socrates,
But the fate and destiny
Leads her in the 21st century,
She feels like an alien
Who lives in a stranger place
But for her comfort in this world,
She has her books and a coffee mug.

–Humaira

As he watched her walk past,
I asked,
"Did you used to date?"
He shook his head,
And said,
"No we never dated,
But I have clothes still at her house.
And her mattress remembers the shape of my body.
No we never dated,
But her old toothbrush rests in the second drawer.
And my mother misses her when she goes to their favorite store.
She refuses to look at me when I'm out with you.
And when you are gone, I know she will come.
But no,
We never dated."

I am devoured by the existence of
vintage and old fashioned crafts.
The old scents and faded letters
that will bring back a decade of dates
until I throw myself back in the history.



I savored the aroma of an old book
until I became one of its pages
While the classic cd and mixed tapes
will play a nostalgic feeling.



I am allowing myself
to be allured by the history
with its treasured memories
that will haunt you in your youth.


Years have past
but we are still here,
we are still alive
despite of the countless departures.  
Relish the taste of life while it lasts
and while you are still able.


Live, love.

We'll stand together, just like we would at the alter, side by side, equal, as one
And though your eyes are fixed on mine, slowly falling into the brown eyelids that are hedged inside,
Your ears, are elsewhere, swallowing whole, the words from below
That tell tales of the man I was,
The rapid blinks protruding from your eyes, overshadow your mascara,
As you try deeply to cover your ear, but the reminder that echoes leads yor eyes to whatever the source,
I ask you whether you're okay and you reply me in a mellow tone, as your mind turns into that of a phone,
Scrolling and selecting,
As you tolerate the comments section
That allows you to see another me.
And in that moment I only ask that as your mind spins you do not search for the answers as you would on your phone, but instead you remember the memories that continuously play on in your mind,
That you see past whatever I am to them,and look to the past to see what I am
Who am I to you?