Photograph...

How I wish I’d kept that picture… That framed doppelganger of you, Snapshot of a faded age, that can never be recaptured, Resurrected or relived, How I wish I had kept it, propped on my Ignominious dresser, To be, by turns, caressed and kissed And spat at, cursed, ridiculed, loved, As my tidal feelings for you ebbed and flowed How I wish it still sat there, staring at me with your eyes, That image of you on a nameless beach, Cigarette clasped in your youthful fingers, Your hair a dusky fountain cascading down your back How I wish I’d clung to it, as a shrine to beauty, A reminder of you, a keepsake, To buoy up my spirits in the bleak loneliness of night, When my sheets are cold and my arms mourn your loss How I wish I still had that picture, Even if it meant causing me pain every time I looked at it, Even if the memories it evoked stabbed me with white-hot Blades of pain, Even though tears sluiced my blotchy cheeks… How I wish I’d kept it… Instead of throwing out with the trash, In a single fit of mindless rage, Never to be kissed or cried or sworn at again.