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inthewater Jan 2
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Once upon, what "is"
Has no "never be's"
Pictures, now, are strange to me

A snapshot back to a certain future
Laughter shared; tears, too
It precedes my doubtful memory
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Once upon, what "is"
Lives indefinitely
Unaware of what will never be
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Printed pieces of boundless time
Whose citizens are full of life,
Safe from looming trajedies
Pictures, now, are strange to me

Once upon, who "is"
Are now all ghosts
Free, from framed captivity
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Following the recent deaths of some family members, I've been looking through old photos and finding ones where one to all people have since died; the photos are becoming more bittersweet to me. I think it can be the same for people who are no longer in our lives for other reasons, too. I catch myself thinking "if only they knew..." but "they" is a totally different person because "they" haven't experienced "those" moments yet.
Francie Lynch Dec 2021
She keeps saddest memories
Closest to her heart;
A death-like permanence
Keeping us apart.
Like X-ed out family pictures
In an album loosing pages.
She believes there were no good times,
Her memory's gone hazy-lazy.
Nyx Lilith Oct 2021
you told me to send a picture
i looked another way
you told me to send a picture
i laughed it away
you told me to send a picture
again and again and again

i cared too much not to cave

i wish my **** form could be sculpted like clay
i tuck my necklace away
i try lip-biting, play with lighting,
hiding
my tan line from last summer

you tell me to send a picture
i have it ready
quivering, quaky fingers
quickly, quietly,
hit send

you tell me i did a good job

when the chat reloads, its gone.


you reply for two more days.
you ghost me.
*******, *****.
Anais Vionet Oct 2021
Kim (one of my BFF) brightened with inspiration, “Oooo! Send him a **** pic!”
“I’m NOT going to sext a guy out of the BLUE,” I grumbled, indignantly.

Kim turned to her phone, “No, No, of COURSE not.” She said as she texted.

“Come on” she said, as she pulled me off my chair and out the door. We raced over, on foot, to my friend Bili’s house (two houses away). We entered without knocking (as usual) and ran upstairs.

Bili lay on her stomach on her unmade bed, fiddling with her phone, ankles up and crossed but she twisted up to attention when we came in.
“What should we do first?” She said, as if there were a million things to do.

They set upon me and had my regular clothes off in a heartbeat. Like all makeovers, this had a prelapsarian purity - the ritual stripping down to blankness before rebuilding.

They quickly went through about half of Bili’s closet - selecting just the right combination of ****** and classy clothes designed to ******.

They finally settled on a black slip under an ivory peignoir, stockings with garters and black strappy heels.

Kim twisted my hair up into a loose “Gibson Girl.”

“Hold still,” Bili said, as she grasped my chin and expertly blended red, gold and black glittery eyeshadows followed by lip liner and gloss. “This is just a quickie job,” she reminded me.

I stared at this strange version of myself in the vanity.

Kim frowned and looking around, she spread a pink scarf over the desk light to give the room a rosy glow. They went into studio mode - posing me in various ways from coquettish to bored lounging - suggesting expressions and taking endless pictures with my phone.

Finally, they were satisfied and handed me my phone.
“Shall we go through them?” Bili asked

“Naah,” I said, “I’ll go through ‘em and pick one - or two.”

Later, at home, I looked through them - I looked SO different - and I had to admit - **** even. But was that ME? I cringed, what if my mom saw these ******, Kardashian-like photos somewhere?

I never sent them. I thought I’d have to explain it to my girls.
“HA!” They laughed, “We KNEW you’d never use ‘em” Bili said, as Kim shook her head “Nope.”
“It was fun though!” We all agreed.
.
.
.
*NOTE: This is a pre-pandemic story from August 2019. I was 15 - the idea wasn’t to ****** this guy, it was to get his interest so he would ask me out 🙃
It’s fun to try alternate identities - even if they don’t always fit.
Sarah Robinson Sep 2021
Sometimes I think of selling pictures of my feet online
Then
I immediately think of the state of my feet;
The state of me.
After conforming to your dress code of black dress shoes and shattered dreams For 11 long years.
For 11 long years
I sat in rows of grey white and black
Perfectly poised in the presence of our educators
Our guardians
Our wardens.
If we deigned to relax,
Laugh,
Breathe,
They would find more to give and give and give
Until we became nothing but frayed nerves
And therapy bills
That should be addressed to our parents
And then I think
I can’t sell pictures of my feet online,
How could I correctly value them
If I don’t correctly value myself?
Alina Sep 2021
You want my pictures so bad, but never stopped to ask my middle name, nope simply to look at my nice frame. Never noticed the color of my eyes, you were just too **** focused on my thighs. Not where I'm from, but "hey, nice ***". Just give me a smile, don't be so hostile.You never asked my favorite food, only if I was "in the mood". You like my lace, not really my face. Asked if I was alone so you could be shown. But you never once asked my middle name.

A.C.
Nigdaw Aug 2021
I bought a Leica camera
someone said
it must take really great pictures
I sat and watched it
for over an hour
it never left my bag
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, cold bot still bold:)

just a visit
lifts the limits
for the color of blood to become a stranger
now my hopes are all in danger
do I avoid the future be a savior?
do I souvenir the past a cinnamon flavor?
people you knew
not pictures the memory drew
like the bone failed it pains
to sustain
then in blink to be fractured drained
the mirror cries with me
but in my head laughs and mocked screams
now not my territory
maybe a new ceremony
me attending alone
counting stars and skipping stones
am I the weird one?
the dresses on the opposite borders not fitting
on that ferris wheel I stay sitting
the skied view more interesting than the far party track
staring at one piece when the museum is packed


                                                                                 -----ravenfeels
Francie Lynch May 2021
She's posted a picture of her son,
Sitting on a swing I assume is moving.
I wonder how this Spring day moves him.
The sun stretching
From his head to his toes,
As he arcs to and fro.
I'll never know.
It's a picture of her son.
Does he read, write, paint, build?
I'd like to see his photography.
Perhaps a picture of his mother
Sitting on a swing;
But it's him, sitting there, still.
So many pictures.
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