Photographs

Your voice was the rain against the ground outside the open window
Seeping into the dirt and quenching the thirst of a year’s worth of winter.
I could hear your laugh in the pitter patter on the pavement and
It beckoned me back to the better days that I cling to so desperately
Because it was your love that filled my heart with these muted photographs
That I keep in their own cardboard box, hidden but left wide open.
I find myself going through them almost every single day, lingering
On the ones where you’re hiding from the camera, shying away
Because in a sense it’s a gift that you gave to me unknowingly
For only I know how beautiful that portrait was a split second before
And you left me that memory to be cherished uniquely, selfishly
But it’s all I can do some days not to stare at them blankly
Wondering where in the world I let all of those moments become
Nothing more than a collection of blurry, off-centre photographs
That I have subsisted on ever since we went our separate ways.

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