Photograph

A photograph.
You can stare at it for hours
or days
or years
but it won’t move.
The eyes are fixated
always looking in the same
direction.
You could say
“There is warmth in his eyes”
but it is just a photograph.
The mouth is
perpetually turned upward,
exposing a gap between the teeth
and perfectly creasing the skin.
You could say
“Oh, how he loved to smile”
but it is just a photograph.
The hair will never be messy,
the cheeks will always be clean.
Here, in this photograph
immortalized behind the ink and gloss
lives a boy.
And you hold on to this photograph,
gripping it
tighter
and tighter
as the boy begins to slip away
and you are left
with a photograph.

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About returntoneverland

All around procrastinator, screw-up extraordinaire.
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