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To The Photographs

You spread across the synapses Resurrecting long buried mind pictures that quickly Consume the soul in sticky, tar-like drips. You contained pictures of my mother when she was close to me, Holding me so she could become closer to what I was. My mother wrote dates, numbers and letters so she could remember what you were. You toss memories about like confetti. Constant reminders of what “is” and what “used to be”. Fissures between hearts and souls Leave whimsical marks dancing on mouth corners. You develop memories that can fill my days with bologna sandwiches and flavored tap water. While joys of past dissolve, evaporate, & melt away like the blizzard that was “us”. So I sit and I stare at you, An archeological find of what once was But now is nothing more than heart residue.
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Written by
abel-araya
Eritrean
Published
May 12, 2013
Lines·Words
18·137
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