Lens Says


She polished my lens after she polished herself. 

Her face caked with






But did the opposite to me--

she wiped the impurities off my face rather than put them on.


She gripped me gently and calibrated my lens.

I had risen toward the heavens like a sacrifice,

giving me the opportunity to

appreciate her aesthetic from an aerial perspective. 



She views my portrait of her but frowns. 

Does she fail to recognize her own allure?

Have I not captured your appeal accurately?


She proceeds to open an editing program on her monitor.

She defaces her own image with countless layers of filters and distortions.


I long for the time where I was used to capture 

vast landscapes,

seasonal weather,

festive gatherings,


your raw, undistored splendor.



Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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