Fading Photographs

Some poems are poured when a poet loses someone, so those who cannot write, feel words mirroring their souls. Since the betrayal of your blind vision, I've been roaming in realms of broken reflections. In your aquarium existence, I've let my emotions sink to the bottom. Remember, when I was your first thought, a jewel in your celebrated crown - now I'm just a pebble in a dirty puddle. It all started with a camera flash. With an obsession of clicks, we captured an anthology of amorous portraits. But now our love is a fading photograph, forgotten in the sun, edges curling, colours bleeding, where only faint faces remain. A butterfly romance, becoming more fragile over time. Vivid scarlet hearts, once beating rapidly, now echo in distant blurs and all I feel are the saddest sighs. In seasons of saudade, I've become an abandoned snapshot of an erased existence. Yet I still yearn for the taste of your lips, to break this haunting hunger. Helpless, lost in a desert storm, footprints left behind, dissolve with the wind, each particle floating away, forever misplaced - disjointed. Memories become like starlight spirits, as silhouettes and shadows dance under a moonlight sonata, slowly burning away all traces of permanence, so all that's left behind is an imprisoned moon, clouded in a dark hymn sky. All my eyes seem to envision is a maroon monsoon. Now my fingers are too afraid to create another photograph - as some memories bring back a waterfall of sorrows.