You have that look in your eyes.
They're down and away,
headed back to the shoes they were torn from.
The turn of your lips
shows your somber dismay,
done smiling fast as
the speed of the shutter.

This sullen depiction
of your disposition
starkly contrasts
the first of the shots.
If not for the latter,
I'm not sure it'd matter;
if any would notice or not.

So which deserves framing?
the one where you're claiming
a life in which you are content?
Or the one that confides,
with that look in your eyes,
how all of our time was misspent?
Which picture? the first,
worth one thousand white lies,
or the one that caught eyes
as they beckoned?
Though you tried to hide it,
and could for the first,
you couldn't fake it
for even a second.

I'll develop a copy of each of the shots
to put on your desk or your dresser.
I'll tuck the bad behind the good,
though its value is no lesser.
If a day should come and leave us
with both our hearts abused,
perhaps you'll find this honest proof
and won't feel so confused.