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Sandoval Nov 6
And if music were love, would my name
be the only letters you’d sing to the sky?

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."
Avis Green Sep 20
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.
Always remember to live and breathe
Jade C Sep 14
I'm trying to slow down
interrupt my step
prolong my sleep
roll out my mornings

loving feels so sacred right now
delicate like vintage china
I hope to pass this love down
or maybe someone will find it at a second hand store in
a couple decades
and savor it with their morning tea

love is wind that I try to grasp
it overpowers my body
it pushes and escapes me

I'd like to freeze this moment
immortalize the tenderness and
the smokey haze that contains it

insane how love can puncture
and tame us simultaneously
Sandoval Aug 16
Let only death
take your
lingering scent
away from me,
for there are no
without soul aching

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?
annh Apr 30
Autumn pours her vintage, red

and rippling, into casks

of rough-hewn oak;

smokey avenues damp

with the exquisite balsam

of the gleaning season.

A variation on a theme. :)

‘I was drinking in the surroundings: air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers and greens in every lush shade imaginable offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow.‘
- Wendy Delsol, Stork
jules kerleen Apr 16
a reality that is augmented, in some way bizarre
out of place but comprehensible
momentarily you're laughing in a chapter of a novel,
sipping wine in a short film,
dancing with your loved one through your imagination
somehow you see the world from such a distance, from the outside
in that split second of 'what the hell am I doing'

you just have to smile and move on.
Sandoval Apr 13
He had
Bogart eyes,
that sad,
tender look
when we last

Nigdaw Mar 15
I drink a perfect summer
fermented strawberry red
with a hint of liquorice aftertaste
from when the world was better
summers warmer and longer
and I wasn't even alive
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