cracked polaroid

did you think I wouldn’t notice
the cracks        scratches              broken buttons

I tried to use it
only to find everything hazy and unrecognizable

 

                                   why 

can’t we fix it
don’t we have any memory of it saved                            somewhere

at least we’ll remember

most of it comes out to be
åÏΤëΓ↡∅Πš of what it truly is                       anyhow

but what is it truly?

are we looking at what we want to see
or what it really is

what is it truly?
at last we             re m emb   e          r 

ice crystals

drop 

             drop             drop
do you remember that time when 
we touched the sky
the smile in your eyes
and the grin that touched my earrings

don’t you also remember how 
                           we        s l o w l y           started to practice loneliness 
keeping to our rooms
             when the cold stowed us inside 

all         of          a           sudden the icicles 
on our cheeks and the          s           l           o           w 
fade of rapture made us into statues
unable to move            or        unwilling to try

and like this we remained all
winter               yearning for the sound of birds
gradually thawing until only I remained in 
the now tepid room full of your shadows

I took the first step       shaking off 
all the melted water, all the ice, all the past             ready
to walk into Spring alone once more 
                           only
to find you waiting so we could go our separate ways 
                                                                                                   
                                                          t  o  g  e  th  e  r 

alleged importance

Is it real?
               

                  Does it label me?
Make me better?                            or best!
Does it give me a certain energy
of           attraction         or   r e p u l s i o n?

Was it meant for me the very first day
I inhabited this
                               human shell?
Was it written on some star before
I landed HERE?
Was it a coincidence that my mother
Heard it from a friend?

What do you feel when the sound of my name
leaves your lips r i d i n g         an                              exhale?
Does it make them tingle
in hope of sensual outcomes?
Do you have an expectation of response?

Does it fit me when I wake in the morning?
Sometimes I feel it loose around my field
like it wants to leave so I can become someone
                                                                                                           else

So I let it take off while I become shortened versions of it
or nicknames or a whistle or a sigh..

                But all the while…

                It’s you
who pronounces my name often…
                           you
so be honest and
                                                      say it