In the beginning, a warm sepia tone film was wrapped around my eyes like a blind fold,
distorting my perception of reality, while we spun around.
The warm summer air that our love grew out of still warmed my hands when I left.
Now the balmy haze has lifted and a broken record plays over. And over.
And over until your words don’t sound like words anymore,
quietly fading into the background, we start to move slower. And slower.
And slower until we are immobile. Paused.
We move backwards now, rewinding like an old family video. Farther. And farther.
And farther until we are at the very beginning again.
With our sepia eyes locked we’ll never move again. Frozen in time like a Polaroid.