Lens flare—

the camera reflects off your sunglasses.

Do your eyes matter, anyway?

I don’t need your soul, you know.

I just want your smile,

your body,

your hands.

Shift a little to the right,

I need that tree in the picture…

it represents stability, you know…

and, now, smile for me.

For the camera.

For my heart.

-

One picture, to remember you by.

One photograph, so that I can weep at night.

One memory, so that I can smile—while I’m

deciding that I’m done.

One smile, because that’s the price of a heart.