You glare into the lens with smoldering eyes
Your ghost
A fiery whisp of your soul
Hungry and straining to yank itself out from under your clenched jaw
Bite down hard
Watch the blood spill from your stone tongue
Into my plastic solo cup
Your tooth floats to the top
Quickly swarmed by genial bubbles
Mocking our leaden embrace
Pop pop pop
We fall to the floor
Breaking our bones in a fit of giggles

I.
I keep looking
I keep drawing
hanging onto memories
miserably
(they're slipping away)
The starless night scene
illuminated by city lights -
a small canvas
I keep at my bedside table.
A Christmas polaroid, a photo taken
by the tree
two years in a row.
The memory of home
it's slipping away.

II.
I keep looking,
keep staring
at the unfamiliar faces
i put up
miserably
trying to connect.
Pretty eyes,
pretty lips,
dimples and freckles cheeks -
I'll never be like them,
I'll never have them
Then what's the point?
to keep looking,
searching for memories
never made
never will.

III.
i don't like empty walls
ugly stains filling a void

is there anyone
to erase it? -
my dark stain -
cover it?
paint it?

nothing can cover the empty walls
nothing
but the memory
of me.

one thing we are never told
pictures taken in polaroid
have a way of fading over time

very much like you and me
and the picture we used to be
no longer has that kodachrome shine

it happens to the best of us
the color fade of wanderlust
bringing out the worst in black and white

one thing i'm relying on
although i'm barely hanging on
is the picture of us left in my mind.