(or polaroid eyes)
i have a box of polaroid pictures.
they contain every millisecond of a memory i have of you.
i took snap shots of the way your eyes wrinkle when you smile,
how you part your hair a little off center,
the magnificence of the glitter in your eyes when the Sun catches your
irises.
i remember the rythem of how you breathed when i made you chuckle.
i have pictures of your dimpled cheeks.
my memory of you
is kept safe in
this Box you have no idea of.
sometimes,
when i go through my photographic memory i catch glimpses of the music i could hear when you spoke.
Frank Sinatra.
Frank Ocean.
Mariah Carey.
but on the days that i am careless and leave my memories open
I share to others about how you held my hand,
how i wished you would have kissed me,
how cute the way you walk is.
i get too excited to share the memory of you and i know what everyone is thinking.
i am not a very good photographer.
but,
can we have one more photoshoot?
if i can't capture you on film or paper
then
can i capture you
in my arms?
YOU ARE READING
Fragmentation
PoetryFragmentation// the process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× It's hard for me to complete my poems. And I finally decided to share some of my poetry with strangers. These...
