Vintage Love

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if someday you pass bydo not be amazed to seethe remnants of yourselfin the plaster peeling offthe once humid wallsand in the little flowerswitherin' in a cracked vaseplaced on the window sillbehind the net curtainsor softly pressed betweenthe yel...

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if someday you pass by
do not be amazed to see
the remnants of yourself
in the plaster peeling off
the once humid walls
and in the little flowers
witherin' in a cracked vase
placed on the window sill
behind the net curtains
or softly pressed between
the yellow pages of books
scattered on my small bed
for no one has been here
since the day you left me

i wake up in the embrace
of soft, undying sadness
to light up the fire so cold
until the hiss of the kettle
calls me to pour the tea
in my oversized red mug
while shoreline gold one
that once belonged to you
is placed ever too empty
in the old wooden cabinet
back in our pretty kitchen
once bathed with summer
for no one has been here
since the day you left me

my bent over silhouette
hits the typewriter keys
a little too hard because
the fog on my spectacles
painted by a delicate trail
of steam escaping my mug
doesn't let me see anythin'
while this broken record
by that parisian printer
tries way too hard to play
the mixtape you gave me
last year, on my birthday
for no one has been here
since the day you left me

your memories seep into
the cracks in dusty walls
and leak through crevices
of the crumpled bedsheets
to mold into a sad shadow
that traipses barefooted
in a lone sunlit corridor
an ancient dawn in its eyes
which reminds me of you
so when the sun sets down
i wait for your footsteps
and a knock on the door
for no one has been here
since the day you left me

oh my sweet, li'l darling..
if, someday, by mistake,
you cross the lost threshold
of my long forgotten home
and colour this musty air
with your light fragrance
i will dance and celebrate
the story of my ruination
with you as your devotee
until i die in your warmth
'cause it has been too cold
despite the hot sugared tea
that i take every morning
for no one has been here
since the day you left me

Author's Note

I love this one. The reason why it's titled as 'Vintage Love' when there's no mention of it in the poem is hidden in the meaning of the word 'vintage'. Vintage means denoting something from the past of high quality, especially something representing the best of its kind. So, now you know why this person's love is vintage.. ❤

What do you think of this poem? I wish I could write more..and I could, but I've been up all night. I've witnessed dawn seeping into my room from behind the curtains a few moments ago. I think I should sleep now. It's been a long night. :')

Much love,
Hazel *-*

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