Polaroid
I take a polaroid picture of my old house and
shake it until it develops. Then I stare, until I
find that
now I am
much less
keen to
keep old
frag- ments
of my past;
“just let it
go,” I say,
to nobody in particular. Then I throw it away.
No-one even uses polaroid cameras anymore.
Sorry to be negative, but that’s just how I am.
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Author's Note: If you're reading this on Wattpad's (otherwise excellent) mobile app, this poem probably looks like a mess. Visit the website to see what I'm going for.
