Volumes of Sensations
I find solace amongst my books
Flecks of old paper fall on my lips, dancing with the coffee and toast
Shelves piled with unorganised spines, reds and browns form cityscapes
I reach for as many as I can, their leather soft but worn
They smell like dust and stories
The characters call to me in the whispers of the pages, yellowed and torn
About the Creator
Scarlett Bird
"But if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?"
-Taylor Swift
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