the
smell
of
coffee
is
your
ikigai
but
you
are
mine.

my thoughts were an
EARTHQUAKE
my life was a building
FALLING and CRUMBLING
at the slightest
TREMBLE

I walk up
To the shop
And I feel
Vellichor
I smell the ink
The worn pages
Feel soft between my fingers
My hands
Trace the spines
And my mouth
Utters in the softest of whispers
The names of authors and their
Masterpieces
Searching
For the perfect book.