When I think of the countless photographs
taken over years and years
taken over years and years
what was the purpose
capturing what exactly
and why
as this thought nestles in
it punctures my lungs
painful
how can one hold time
worse than sand
green. green green green green green.
I miss him
but he is right next to me
ready to wake any minute
crying to say
“I need you, I love you, you are my everything”
Now tell me how that’s not addictive as fuck
I've painted myself into a corner
now I turn around and paint the corner
leaving footprints and indistinguishable marks
all over my life so far
good only
If I could split myself in two
into the one who loves me
and the one who is me
who else would I need
not you