Author’s Note: This is the first piece of poetry I have ever had published. It was published in Polar Expressions Publishing’s poetry anthology ‘Insight’ in the early spring of 2014.
I fall in love in a series of snapshots.
Quick pictures taken of you when you think no one else is looking.
My eyes are the camera lens,
my brain the film your image is pressed upon,
And my heart is a scrapbook littered with stolen photos of you.
The first time I see you, you’re like a sunset on an ocean backdrop.
Bleeding fiery oranges and reds into a sky that has only ever known a million shades of blue.
You are art in a case and as I press my fingertips firmly against the glass,
I finally understand what they mean when they say
the Mona Lisa really is smiling just for me.
Being with you is living in an ever-playing symphony. Every second a new trill of notes is played,
more brilliant and beautiful than the last.
The fingers that I cannot quite grasp pluck the air like harp strings.
I know were those same fingertips dance across my body,
I would sing for you like a fine-tuned piano.
But falling out of love is like reading the plot to a drugstore paperback tragedy.
Slow, painfully so, and completely predictable
Almost as if the author had grown weary of their work halfway through
The plot is bled dry of emotions and it overlays within itself,
nothing more than a tired, faded echo.
And as I flip through the scrapbook I almost drowned to protect
From the rising tide of loneliness and contempt
I find its pages are already soggy and water-stained with an overflow of emotion.
I see nothing but faded photos with faces smudged out
And the backgrounds blurred.