now that it’s gone
I’m wondering if you’re actually smiling
as you leaned away from the camera
wondering if your shoulders are bare
wondering when I will see it again
just
wondering how much you thought
anybody would miss those few images
would regret not saving them among others
would say to strangers on a train,
“Bruh, you ever seen the way she smiles?”
I wanted to tell you secrets
before I met you
wanted to see your eyes brighten
to see if your ears pointed
when you shook your head while grinning
wanted to have you
come back toward the camera
wanted
to watch your shoulders rising
wanted
to catch the light in that room soften
around you
swallow up the warm colors and
pour them into your dress until
the black of it became a shadow
and there was ochre in the curl of your hair
and yellows running over the curves of your breasts
and three hues of blues racing the lengths and grooves of your arms
and white as you smile
and white as you stare
and budded roses
coming from the ends of your fingers
as you appear to say,
“Help Me Up…”
and me adding in the word:
“from this picture and into your arms”
.
.
.
.
