Photo by Alex Saunderson
in a metaphysical moment
in a breath of vibrant solitude
in the half-light of a dying dream
where i slept with open eyes
you touched my face, so tenderly
and the dream slipped from inside me
and i walked into the arms of memory
with the uncertainty of a somnambulist
i took the tarnished silver box you offered
filled with old black and whites
moments imprisoned and yellowed by time
there were no digitals back in the day
remember?
and i went through the box
photo by photo
but there was one photo
of you and me
old and bent and torn about the edges
old and bent and brittle with age
but softened by the moment it caged
remember?
you were doing something funny
because you wanted to make me laugh
and i was laughing
because the laughing was good
and innocent and free
and our eyes were half-closed
in the brightness of the sun
and i don’t recall who framed us like that
but it does matter, you know
because that person saw that love
how beautifully you offered me the stars
and how heartlessly you stabbed
then stole away
and now you want to tell me how and why
but
there are always three sides to the story
yours
mine
and the one that’s real but never told
and i need i need i need… you want to say
and your eyes are daggers inside my heart
but i won’t i won’t i won’t… allow
because sometimes… sometimes… i remember you
not as my first hero on a prancing platinum steed
but as the double of you my imagination designed
crafted from the fragments remaining after your fall
but that is another story
one held in my arms
in your eyes
which shone with such brilliance
before they lost their lustre to time
a blood-stained story that haunts
the corridors of my days and nights
staining the present with what seeps
from the unforgotten wounds of the past
a story that can’t be undone
though it has tried to undo itself
a thousand million times
in the tilt of your lips to one side when you smile
in your freckles that darken when the sun is high
in your eyes that dart all over when you lie
and i thought i’d like to think you away… but
i was filling bullet-ridden castles with water
so i held that photo
in the palm of my hand
like it was a drop of holy blood
and i heard you whisper from inside its heart
this can be us again… again, you and me
and i whispered back from inside my heart
that was a moment in which i loved you