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Jul 1
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
Written by
anastasia  17/F/Charlotte, USA
(17/F/Charlotte, USA)   
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