Perfectly groomed, as if for a perfect capture
In basic hues, simplified and resolved,
Fighting for the Rule of Thirds
In the blazing sun
Or in the cold night winter
In a frantic search of a candid capture.
Rolling eyes, but never in frustration,
Struggling with a tripod,
Trying to perceive the beauty that’s never been told.
Once spot lit, once camouflaged
Superimposing life’s imprints
Through the aperture.
“Is he the man?
Never invited in, yet held inside?”
Flashed the question so bright,
Hidden with words in countenance.
May thousands of pictures filling up your cache
Annoy you and taking your time to process.
Then wouldn’t you mind erasing some of the captures?
And edit me out of the life you portray.
Remain forever behind the lens
Backing up all your thoughts for me
Which are meant, never to be confessed.
Let time fade that perfect silhouette of love,
As we can never edit nor photoshop
The truest, treasured feelings of our hearts.
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