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Photographic Memory
Folder:
Extended Metaphors I am only
an amateur photographer.
I bought the wrong film and
ended up with prints
that have faded
into obscurity
over time,
barely a silhouette of what
was once captured.
My camera was defective;
it recorded only
retouched images
where the negatives
had been removed,
faults concealed.
I’ve spent months
running our slide show
in my mind,
scanning each frame
out of sequence
and somehow distorting
the memories.
Now I’m left here
sifting through
boxes full of pictures
with scissor-cut edges
trying to make sense of why
you decided to
crop yourself out
of my life.
