Inside a Photograph

But life without you always was in case the difference be left unmarked and if it is to be a means by any love would it then be better spent inside a photograph A memory then to be dragged from its own sad reminiscent domain a moments hankering a tear fallen for so much of its own wasted time Not I this form you crave all I but a companion to your doubt and in solitude's despair before you sought me out But life without you always was until it came again to this affair of love returning with its count of desolate years unknown in my own tomb unknown it was in the futures womb No more of substance than a dream all those concern of other material things removing this life from its living and more than love is wanted in the giving I walked this grey land inadequate and expectation delivers to me by fault and if all of love is never enough would it then be better kept inside a photograph You did not love me between the years and in such brief encounter echoed back all those forgiven tears tears fallen for so much of their wasted time And the years repeat you were never mine you are still the same the photograph has never changed still locked in seclusion this self proffered isolation of all you were and I could dream to be anything more than the person inside the photograph Life without you always was