Updated: Nov 13, 2021
Neither do I want to be a name in your forgotten contact list, Nor do I desire to be in the group of acquaintances
I don’t want to be your flavor, color or phase of the month And being the watch you keep looking at constantly, wondering about the never- ending time; Not really in my wish-list.
I want to be the dried rose that you keep in between the pages of an old romantic classic, The sapphire that you treasure as a faith in love.
I wish to be the reason behind the photo in your wallet, The muse of your life, And the warmth in your smile.
I hope to be someone, you won’t find difficult to search, in your mind palace. The girl in your story, which you will narrate to your children under the starry night, A light smile playing on your lips while doing so.
“In a world dominated by Netflix and Instagram, I crave for the black ink in between yellow pages.”