Ancient, Anew

Autumn, ablaze~

The inescapable haze

of déjà vu.


                                 The bottles are gone.

The bottles of my smells, the scents of my rooms I'd become so familiar with; gone.

I moved, and so much is here, it seems like too much has stowed away with me somehow,

                                                     just not the things I wanted; the things I needed.

I'm a simple girl, or so I thought.

                                                          What's a jinniyah to do without her bottle?

In what will I drift restlessly across the expansive, endless sea of time?

                                 

                                                                          
                                                                              Answers are found in the past.