Dear __ ,
We barely talk,
we spend mornings and nights
looking down on those rectangular box.
You don't even look at me anymore,
unless it is through the lens of yours.
You can't hear me over those phone calls of yours,
and now my heart sores and roars
for I feel alone.

FLASH

"the exposure looks kinda funny"
"maybe just adjust the aperture a bit"
"add in the lighting"
"is the white balance set?"

the chair squeaks as it moves to the left
the weight shifts the couch in their direction
heat radiates from the family
whose fake smiles are nearly as blinding as the flash from the camera
despite the tripod, the camera sits off kilter
like the uneasy tension in the room
it feels hot--no, sweltering
unsettled emotions sit like
discarded mail
away and out of sight

CLICK

"Okay, we're good"

and the family heads off in their separate ways
with no goodbyes for the others

A taxi drove past
at two in the morning,
blurring through the street lamp halo
painted on the sidewalk.

A click.
Flash frozen,
stuck speeding stationary,
clipping the spotlight.
And the night hanging off the lamp pole
does not appreciate
being caged away

Her bright red sweater
surrounded by the yellow of the sunflowers
Captured is the heart
it seems - though the lens has failed to focus

The bend took me away.
- Snap!