Polaroids and Memories

The Earth seemed to stand still
as you walked through it's focused
camera lens.

Like you stepped through my Polaroid and fell
into my un focused world.

You look alive,
even as you slip back into
a black and white image,
smiling at me in a memory.

I can hear "I love you"
coming from the dried ink.

I hear your foot steps and
my heart starts thumping.
Adrenaline pumping when I remember
how it was to fall in love.

And then I think about the flowers
I picked in the forest while thinking about your eyes;
And the reaction on your face when I told you I was
out there all day looking for blue roses because
blue is your favorite color.

And then I think about how beautiful you still are.

I wanted to say hello as you passed through
my camera lens,
but I knew that would be a mistake.

Hello leads to questions,
questions lead to coffee in the café
where we met,
and that might lead to a bedroom that
you probably wouldn't recognize.

A bedroom that smells like some other woman's
perfume on your favorite sweater, and blonde, and black
hair promiscuously laying on new pillows.

Hello leads to a story we've already read.

And We've no more letters left to write,
no more words left to say.

Like the Mona Lisa or some high school sweetheart,
seeing you walk in was like a hammer beating
in my chest,
absolutely gorgeous.

I didn't even know it could beat that fast,
it's funny I guess,
that you can still cause my blood to run hot
after so much time.

My heart was shouting,
I had to tell it to shush
out of fear that I might interrupt
the poet who I was taking photos of,
her words were like a violin playing from unseen
strings in her notebook.

But I couldn't focus,
not while you were stealing glances at me every time
I lifted up my camera,
not while I was stealing them right back when you looked
down at your phone.

I saw you sway to the music of my favorite band
and I remembered us dancing in my living room.

It almost made me laugh.

I knew you'd find your way out of that polaroid
and back into the world.

I don't think we will ever know each other,
but I'm glad you were there.

I'm glad that you aren't just a picture that fades,
I'm glad your eyes found their way to mine,
even for a moment.

I'm glad that I saw you again,
and that you can still, even now,
make me smile.

Be well.

Published by Grant McLaughlin

Poet and Journalist. email me at grantmac1231999@outlook.com

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