Finally, I took your pictures down
The ones that hung above my desk and haunted me
Reminding me of better days when I had all I ever wanted,
When you would look me in the eyes and I'd desire nothing more...
When our intertwined fingers were my definition of perfection...

But why should I keep our sentimental moments front and center in my view 
When you've already burned the memories and scattered the ashes in the sea?

Too often I find my lovesick nostalgia suffocating me while I stare into your pretty Polaroid face.
So, I stuffed our every photo in the back side of a picture frame--
--a photo booth at senior prom, our graduation, a smiling push on a swing,
A black-and-white of holding hands, walking away, heads cast down but eyes lit bright--
--and I shoved them in a box, hoping that my mind will someday follow suit.