(You're the) Picture


{{…of everything that I'll miss…}}

I know I shouldn't do this to myself…
I know I shouldn't be so dumb…
It's my own fault for dredging up the memories;
I knew that to my damned emotions I'd succumb…

(But even so…)

I looked through my camera just now
Until I found the single picture I have of you.
And as I looked down at your smiling face,
I wondered what in the world am I going to do…?

For the next three hundred, sixty-five days, at least,
My reality will be resigned to pixels on that digital screen.
And your touch will be little more than sensate memory,
Merely lingering echoes each night as I lay in bed and dream.

I focus on your eyes in that single picture and notice
The glint in your eyes that seems to convey your love for me.
But don't misunderstand, because it's still not the same as
Hearing the words and blushing under your gaze, as the words wash over me.

I linger on your lips in that picture, the endearing crooked grin,
And I smile lightly, thinking of those lips gently pressed against my own.
And then I think of all the time that must come to pass before I can
Experience the two of us so becoming one; feel like I'm once again at home.

I think about your strong, tanned arms that you use to prop yourself up in that picture,
And I remember how I used to feel laying in them, wrapped in your embrace.
I've never felt safer anywhere else, and I think it's what I'll end up missing the most:
The fact that your touch isn't here to protect me, comfort me; and it makes me lose face.

As I sit and stare at your picture with such longing that I find my eyes starting to tear,
I realize that more than the big picture, it's everything about you that I'm going to miss.
And as I realize the truth of that thought, I know it's best that I go, before I lose my mind…
So I smile at you fondly, wipe dry my eyes; before I close the display I say goodbye.


L. Sherman