In a college psychology class my professor told me about flashbacks. How these moments are defined by intense, vivid memories of a dramatic event in our past.
A camera broken face nervous
Shooting out pixels
Attempting to recreate your image
Hospital beds
No
Chemo dripped needles
No
Flat lined arms holding onto anything stable
Why
Now every doctor has the same voice
Each one of them presents themselves in forms of your death
When will the good memories come back?
At what point will my camera work again
The pictures I keep in my head are not the ones I want
This dark room is getting darker
Without producing new pictures
I need exposure
To the laugh you use to have
All I hear is your cough
A rippled wretched cacophony of cancer
Until then,
I choose to see you
In any way I can
To remind myself of your presence