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.

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