long drive through summer nights a ghostly salty smell nearby a Polaroid of orion that your fingers trace tears falling like a cascade on an uneven face
crinkles by your eyes are long gone and your smile is only a memory stored and you threw away your ring when you left the city encaptured into a chrysalis of anonymity
new town, new place, unknown destination sacrificed the name which your parents called you with proud once in a state where your business is no one else's pain and you're so grateful there's no familiar face
that's what's about running away away from the hurt that left you astray astray from the path that's your family's way way into a place away from friends' solace
esther darling, I'm glad to see your incandescent eyes in a serene epiphany despite of the mediocrity esther darling, this place was meant only for you to be.
follow the journey of a broken, but content lass as she loses her home but finds herself amidst the battles bestowed upon her.
Every time you read a poem, it would be different than previous. Poets shape verses accordingly, and add warmth into raw words of obvious. A poem is a mystery to everyone, filled with pain and desires. Poets shape verses accordingly, and arrange the words before they expire. A poem can make lifeless person feel alive, but make the mind a horrific place. Poets shape verses accordingly, and let words flow in their own space. A poem could be difficult to understand, because it possesses calm and clash. Poets shape verses accordingly, and avoid words to turn into ash. If poems would be written on the skin, everything would bleed and shed. Poets shape verses accordingly, and instead of vintage words turn red. -Aishwarya Kulkarni
I think back to our first moments together. Sneaking eyes under flower crowns and balloons. Looking across crowds of people for you subconsciously, noticing you noticing me noticing you. To look back on that time tinges everything with a vintage haze, like viewing the history before something monumental. Each person holding their breath and each step bringing us closer to everything. I want to go back to the first time I asked myself "what if it's us?"; the first time I truly saw you for everything that you could grow to mean to me.
"I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day"
"I guess that's any relationship, you start with nothing and maybe end with everything"
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.
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."