Snapshot

If you can take a snapshot of my life  

In time 

 You will capture only

My blurry lines.

Because I am poetry

The flame behind the words.

Made of joys and sorrows and hefty thoughts

Forgotten scars and questioning awe

Secret shames and secret fears and secret love.

Because here I am—

Sullen moods and endless strife and sharp remarks.

And if you can take

A snapshot of my life – this time—

You’ll find

That I’m alive.

Because I’m poetry

Sometimes with enjambed

Lines

 but always flowing on –

And on—and on.