I need to stop comparing pictures of the present to polaroids of the past
Memories of first day we met to the reality of the last
I want a Polaroid camera soooo bad
in lambent glare, a frozen stare
at pictures bordered white
they held within two lovers' grins:
past moments of delight.
his icy rage made pale his face
as photos burned by night
catharsis reached, he felt the heat
and smiled at the light.
What do we really have in this world?
Apart from the handwritten letters,
the dusty polaroids capturing
memorable days long gone,
and out battle scars.
We have nothing much at all.
Because it all gets snatched away too soon.
We look back to how
we orchestrated our love
in those polaroids.
Of the haiku series
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Sleepy eyes hidden behind black and white covers-
Your arm covering your eyes but you're smiling with nothing but joy and laughter-
Coal Black hair and a 5- o'Clock shadow covering your chin; I can almost feel the roughness against my face-
Our small, New York apartment, messy as always in the background-
"When did you stop dreaming in technicolor? When did you only focus on the black's and whites of life? She asked when he sat down in front of her- no smile, no joy.
“smile,” she said.
“do a leap,” she said.
the flash didn’t once blind
the pupils that contained sorrow,
for she knew the polaroids
were to be burned in the fireplace
and yet no splash of filter
could ever hide her smile of no reality.
Photographs that remind me of when you were happy,
Before the resentful hatred and depression takes over,
Cascading us downwards,
Cascading you further down than me,
Reach out lover,
For our hands are closer than once before,
If you tried, just once,
Maybe I could save you
And death comes without warning,
You only awake when it’s nighttime,
I don’t think you want to be seen at all anymore
So I’ll take the photographs and walk for miles,
For there was a time when you were at peace
But now you’re gone
— The End —