Darkroom.

Snap a memory in a darkroom,

and strip my image

from tinted film.

-:- -:- -:-

Douse my pain

in chemical fluid.

Wash away my imperfections

with a solution that burns.

-:- -:- -:-

Oh, define me

in black-and-white.

Is my face really so pure,

but my eyes so dark?

(How long has it been since I’ve last really slept?)

-:- -:- -:-

The shadows paint sin

onto my hands

like bloodshed.

That flash gives me an

unrealistic holy glow.

(You know I fell from grace years ago.)

-:- -:- -:-

…but I don’t care

as long as it’s only

your fingers

touching my picture.

-:- -:- -:-

My soul is safe

(and I’ll always remember…)