The Face of a Stranger
Every picture I take
Is run through a thousand filters,
So that people look at my photo and gush
That I look amazing.
And I stare at it,
Trying to find a hint of myself in there.
That photo resembles a stranger
More than it does me;
I could fix that crooked smile,
Fix that bleak wall I was standing against,
Fix those lights that flicker,
On, off, on, off,
And I get a perfect girl
In a perfect photo,
With just the right smile,
Leaning against a cream wall,
The soft lights bathing her skin
Her-not mine-
In radiance.
But I want my photo,
Where I had been leaning
Against the wall of a friend’s room.
I was trying not to laugh
At the faces she was making
And my smile came out crooked.
Her brother had snuck in
He was trying to scare us,
Turning the lights
On, off, on, off.
Yes, there was hair in my face
And my cheeks were red;
Still I had loved that moment,
And loved that me.
But now I had lost it,
For the face of a stranger.