sweet baby, do you remember March? It was rainy, it was lively, and it was so lovely Against the white backdrop of parliamentary buildings, I'm taking pictures of you
pretty baby, we're in a crowd of beings it's evening, it's a rush, it's scary me in the crook of your arm, your smile that is as radiant and joyful as a rainbow and someone is taking pictures of us
darling darling in Florida and we're by the lake someone said there's alligators in it we're laughing and I'm Taking pictures of you
love of my life we're on the plane home it's dark and peaceful you have the softest profile I wish to always look at it And I'm taking pictures of you
sad baby So far away It's pouring torrents here And you're on my big screen, lying in my lap I'm on the swing and I tell you I made you a picture collage but I'm too shy to show it to you You roll your doe eyes And I'm taking pictures of you
and I'm always taking pictures of you, wherever you go. Because I don't know what else to do with your immortality. You're someone who'll never grow old. You're someone who will always be sixteen to me. incandescent, riotous, magnificent. Taking pictures of the exquisite vision that you were
and
Now I find A poem Something I wrote
Earlier this year
This is how it goes :
" i'm taken aback. i sit here, and i suddenly think of you, and i'm taken aback by how little it affects me. it makes me
antsy, like something is terribly wrong. i try to recall the sound of your voice,
and it sounds weak, as if you're speaking to me through a body of water. i try to picture your face, and again,
i can only remember the outline of it.
what shade of brown were your eyes again? was that mole on the right side of your chin or the left? what made you smile? was it me? i throw open the door to my closet in a frightful state
– it feels as though my heart is about to rip out of my chest. i see your face there – it's a picture of us – on the inside of my closet door. i feel
nothing. i feel nothing. i feel nothing at all. your perfectly pretty face looks the same – all brilliant smiles and dark eyes, and yet i feel nothing at all. perhaps
my heart really has left my body,
and i no longer recognize you for who i thought you were.
later at night, i lay in my bed,
quiet and timid as a feather. my mind plays me a film of you,
and i watch it – feeling soft little ebbs of pain everywhere. i don't shed a single tear. i simply pull the blanket over my face and shut out the world. a world wherein i don't remember you anymore.
a world wherein there's no place for even a dream of us anymore (a world i don't like so much anymore) "
my self is surprised at my own sentimentality . I close my eyes
and I can see you, standing tall and regal.
I'm hopeless. but in the best way possible.
and i must've been quite upset when i wrote that I didn't like the world anymore, because that's simply untrue. my heart is enough for itself, it heals itself everyday, and it loves you more every day
even though now you're really gone and I'm left with all these pictures of you (us).
I gloss over them, can't look at 'em too long because then I start forgetting where I am.
reminiscing, retrospecting,
reacquainting myself with who i am the girl i was in the pictures with you ( happy, in love, chock full of hopes )
i realize this writing isn't finding a fitting ending , but sometimes, you don't need an ending that fits. you only need one that satisfies you.
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