Looking through pictures,
And hating every minute of it.
I hate the memories you have,
The people you're with,
Even the way your hair looks.

But the photographic timeline fasts forward.
Your hair grows longer
And I become happier.
Aside from a subtle hole of depression
Opening up in my stomach.

Finally I reach
The memories we have together.
Pictures on the archery range
And the dining hall porch.
The subtle hole fades.

Flipping through pictures of your work this past year,
And I wonder,
Does Molly still hate me?
Have you spoken to Jon the Texan since he left?
Do you miss them?

Because I miss you.
I'll be home soon enough,
But I miss you.
And I will try my best
Not to let you miss me
Anymore.