Like sack-cloth on your skin
Your eyes that glimmer
From a faded photograph
I touch the image
And your purity is gone
Almost like it never showed

My recollections are blurred
And shuffled
Like a used pack of cards
But one thing stays the same:
Each time I see your photograph
I see myself
As sack cloth on your skin
I cause discomfort
And you're glad
To shake me off