Blurred polaroids
you live still
in the blurred polaroids of my mind—
your face dissolving into silver,
mine into someone i cannot quite find.
i loved you once
with the fervour of an unwritten psalm,
and though the wanting has gone quiet,
the love still lingers, warm.
perhaps i miss you;
perhaps i miss the girl who loved you—
the softer version of myself
that time, like winter, outgrew.
we both became strangers
to the people we once knew,
yet i keep your photographs
the way old libraries keep books
whose endings they already knew.
i do not wish to have you again,
nor become who i was before—
i only wish i could tell that girl
she was worth loving, even more.
so let the polaroids remain blurred;
some things are kinder without view—
for sometimes, loving what we lost
means learning to love
who we became too.
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