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pri Aug 2018
summer nights are best spent with you.
greedily scarfing down ice cream,
watching our feet touch the sky from old playground swings.

and the ones in your mom’s car
-the soft music, the hard music
singing to melodies that we’ll never know.

each night, we feel each’s wishes.
i, i want to give you fairs, and cotton candy,
and hold your hand as we walk along the sidewalk.

i want to twirl you around,
because though we’re very summer friends
i want to keep you forever.

our feet scrape the gravel,
toes tap the sidewalk,
noses breathe in the air.

distinctly, i remember something
-us in a concert,
our shoulders brushing as we danced.

i remember laughing with you in the water,
because i hated being short,
so naturally i had to climb you.

i remember every year
we laugh away these nights,
until they become memories.

they, were, definitely,
polaroid worthy.
you’d give a blank look.

and then spring would come again,
and we’d be sitting in your mom’s car,
watching the sunset again.

remember this?
for my friends (keekya)
Sudeshna D May 2018
​Is this your heart
Or a Polaroid?
Thick white borders hiding
The true picture inside.
E over c2 Apr 2018
As a kid growing up
All the way up til now
The one super power I've always wished for
Is to stop time

Because I've had problems
with saving the moment I have
Everything else seems to get in the way

But then you came along
And now my super power is any moment I have with you
Because in those moments the rest of the world stops for a little while
Time stops for a little while

And now in my pocket
A polaroid lies
And let's me stop time whenever I need
Whenever I look at you

So it seems my wish came true
Because now, I have you.
Sam Feb 2018
Stems of light, apprehended,
comprised in a frame 
of fuzzy, speckled imagery.
Memories etched, staining time
along spectrums once focused 
with refined precision.
Apparitions of past fragments,
transcend; condensed on fabric
weaved through the eye of a lens.
A poem about the moment a photograph is taken.
Sam Feb 2018
Physical cease, she fade to black as an apparition
reminiscing, playing host to these phantom visions
same derision, paint her frame through a jaded prism. 
Canvas stained, splash my page with a grave incision. 
Her blade caressed with fatal precision. 
Unstable conditions got me spinning off my axis, 
Piece myself together pulling ashes from the fragments.
Left murmuring the captions to memories captured,
polaroid backdrops that descend into blackness.
Lex Jan 2018
I wait
for our fate
like I wait
for a Polaroid
and as it slowly develops
I see you and me
~LJ
Lunar Oct 2017
"When you're lonely,
what do you do?"

"I take pictures
of my favorite places."

"But why do you
keep taking
pictures of the same spots?"

"Because sometimes,
I wish
you'd appear
in one of them."
(j.m.)

i take many pictures of my favorite places almost expecting you'd be what i captured, wjh.
M Joy Oct 2017
Polaroids do no justice

To the life I made for you

You signed your name in black

And let the film fade to blue

Like being front row to a tragedy

I can't look away but it hurts to see

These times are a memory I'd like to forget

But I can't wash away the bruises it left

I'll keep your smile by my side

And your voice in my mind

As my life flashes before my eyes

And we turn into a silver sky
poshal gyamba Aug 2017
You and me,
we stand together smiling,
in the perfect lighting,
fine dress, pleasant weather,
momentarily existing,
momentarily loving,
away from reality,
just us and a sunny day,
I guess we forgot  
we were just moulded clay,
and when the rain came
we got washed away,
now you're just a memory in a polaroid,
tucked in an old book I tend to avoid.
rhym    e
Brianna Aug 2017
You were early morning fog that keeps rolling in on grassy hilltops.
Green covered in red and yellow and brown; a place where the living meets the dying.
Cool, minty breath, and the image of you rolling down that hill with a pumpkin in hand will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Orange hair, dark freckles on your face, pretty black tights and a bright yellow jacket that was almost too obnoxious for the beginning of September.

"When did the Autumn become the saddest season?" I asked her as she sipped her coffee as black mascara fell down her pink freckled cheeks.
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