Pictures
shallow ponds of color rubbed off on meager paper
immoving reflection unlike memory, but like what I remembered
this one blue and red
all that's left of someone I loved.
Once I dreamt you looking back through the pane of a picture
hair softly blowing in the mountain breeze
sitting serenely looking back at me
unable to cross the divide.
What's left when we are gone?
ideas of who we once were in the heads of people we knew?
things. places that change. fragile names.
and photographs: more diligent than the inner eye
encaptured light. and time
photonsketch of what not remains
remains.
3.20.08-1
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2 comments:
We used to talk on the phone quite a bit. We used to have a lot in common. I searched you on google, because I was curious to why you stopped talking to me. Looks like you have a good life, I don't mean to be creepy.
<3
For what it's worth, I'm sorry, whatever happened. My apologies.
Drop me a line sometime and we'll talk!
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