Gone in a Flash.

Gone In A Flash.

Faded photo booth souvenirs
stacked in the order of each moment,
our faces pressed together 
to fit in the tiny mirror, 
behind which the camera 
captured our grins.

Was it time scripted on a strip,
of negatives filled with positives...
or just a fifty cent catalog 
of silliness...or both?

So in love, 
I remember that tightness 
I felt in my throat and chest,
whenever you drew near,
the deliciousness 
of each minute spent,
in your presence,
now reduced to postage sized images, 
that still make me smile
in a water-melancholy way.

My eyes moist
my heart aching briefly
for what was lost, 
yet preserved.

We aged in a flash it seems, 
perhaps it started there
in that tiny booth, 
with the curtain drawn,
you warmth pressed against my lap.

Now all that remains
are these six exposures
revealing innocence stolen by years,
a girl I still love
in some shadow of my soul, 
a longing for what could have been, 
and a curtain pulled 
tightly across the tomorrows
on what has yet to develop in my life.