Snapshots
I saw a picture of her
Somewhere
With snow in her hair
And a forgotten smile
Holding a snapshot
Of her simple beauty
I thought
I recognized her…
She had a bad habit of
Over thinking
You could read her worry
In her curls
In the crinkles by her eyes
When she thought her smile
Hid everything
Her thoughts only got caught
Between her teeth
Like seeds of doubt
Until her mouth filled up with
Shattered glass feelings
And oversized thinking
But there were times she was truly
Empty
Empty like her eyes
When there was nothing on her mind
And she felt free
Like she was finally so full of
Something good
It overflowed through her
Smile
I saw her picture somewhere
Tucked in his wallet like a
Reminder
She could hold together
The loose and peeling
Leather
Of his back pocket world
With her beautiful disposition
But she had a bad habit of
Tearing herself down
Of believing misconceptions
As absolutes
Not taking anyone’s words as proof
That she was so much more than
Than just ordinary
So she forgot how to dream
Made herself believe
Her dreams were better off without her
But there were times
When sleep was so deep
She got lost in the impossible
And thought
She could finally fly
If only for a second
Like she could paint the wind
Into an ocean
And sail away on her
Broken inhibitions
I saw her picture somewhere
Set on the mantel piece
In a cracked frame of reference
Pressed between glass like a promise
To remember
But she had a bad habit
Of forgetting who she was in her
Own skin
Handing over her
Fragile frame
In the hopes of a restored
Happiness
Forgetting she could do it
On her own
And she had a bad habit
Of pushing
Of pulling away
Like a ripping seam
Her heart would bleed in her
Loneliness
When she forgot how not
To be alone
So she pulled and pushed
Even harder
But there were times
She could just stand still
She could pull her arms in
Like a promise to stop
Pushing
There were days her lips
Would curl up
In content
When she could open herself
For a man with a
Heartbeat of ghosts
But she was hurt
Deep in her bones
Where no one could see the bruises
I saw her picture somewhere
I didn’t know until the frame
Had been replaced
And the snow melted from her
Bangs
That she was familiar
I was looking a picture…
Of a blue and purple ship wreck
Brought to shore by her own
Boot straps
She was all the words
A picture is worth
In one fractured smile
She was incredible,
Wise in her sad eyes and so
Strong in her bruised bones
She had a beauty I wished I could
Revel in
The only time I thought I was
Beautiful
Was when I put myself back
In this box of old pictures
And remembered the days
They were all taken.