Waking Up
Location
There are canisters of film
laying around my cluttered room
Covered in dust
and left there to fade.
For a moment
That fragile second
captured between a lens
and a sharp piece of glass
is torn by the actual memory.
A breeze brushes my arm
with the frigid breath of familiarity
slowly stretching until my entire being
is freezing.
The cold is foreign to this pale skin
Not because it’s never touched it
but because the memory of it
is different than what it once was.
It was a memory
of that old place that we never
wanted to go.
Standing, like the thought
crossed your mind once.
Twice.
And the flash went off.
Eye lids that had never closed
seemed like they were beginning
to open.
The night threw its first punch
and the memory was gone,
fading slowly onto a negative
that would never be developed
once the act was complete