Photographic Memory

with a heavy soul
desires have become memories
like a photograph I recall seeing
but not sure where

your past and mine
could be like
the energy of a wave

like the lines
on the back of my hand
the creases in your face

like a road map
We never follow
but keep—just in case

like the box
of secrets
hidden in the back of my closet

our history like intersections
crossing in the middle of nowhere
framed, dissected and hung on the wall
a silver gelatin camera-eye
languishing in our death’s-head
like love–that never happened

memory

hands

death

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