it's over a decade old holding secrets I can no longer withhold it's once vibrant colors now faded and as I look into it my past feels jaded I never knew how long it would last that my hold on a lie would be so steadfast
the immensity and the intensity of the illustration is penetrating behind us, the sun was pulsating dancing among clouds, her beams shot through like the final recital of a dancer who will bid adieu
the two of us poised like Greek statues in the light him, in a sweater woven with gold and by sprites and myself in a cape formed among the seven wonders of the ancient world in front of a mansion that holds tales untold the steps eager to see our eyes grow by tenfold
but then in the ensuing photograph it is only I that stands the glamour of my cape shedding becoming the source of clamor the lavender shade of my jacket is molting falling apart, it reveals a truth that only time can see that our fanciful clothing was only a disguise conjured up to distract their eyes
so this poem took inspiration from Margaret Atwood's "This is a photograph of me." After reading it, I subsequently wrote my own spin-off. <3 - Anastasia