The polaroid says you are exquisite,
With your midnight hair and sapphire eyes,
Your rose petal lips, oh so delicate,
And the sound of your voice (what lovely lies).
And I can’t argue; it was me, after
All, who swooned at the mere sight of you, who
Got lost in the tan of your skin, your laugh,
The way you said my name and you, you, you.
But the camera couldn’t see your heart,
Fiery red, from all the stolen love,
Kisses and hugs you collected like art,
Displayed in places I only dreamed of
(your mind, I dreamt of it so often, I
Regret those nights, I wish I hadn’t cried).