You’re the Snapshot I Want to Keep

I tried to be what you wanted.

Photo by Jenna Anderson on Unsplash

Hey — it’s been a while. I haven’t thought of you in so long. But when winter’s keeping me at bay, locked inside with no outlet in sight, I think back to those vibrant days in summer when all I wanted was to be near the sunshine you brought everywhere you went. It didn’t matter if you burned me — time heals all wounds, they say, for times like these — but revolving around you was what I sought to do best.

I still have that old Polaroid picture of you, the waves at your back, the sky just an afterthought when the true center of the photo was your glowing face.

Hey — did you make it out all right? Were you able to see beyond the moments that tried to steal your light? I’m writing these things to you, but I’m not even sending them out like messages in bottles. Maybe I’ll burn this piece of paper before I go to sleep. Maybe then my dreams won’t star your every silhouette and the mystery of what you may be doing now.

I can see the picture — which is usually at the bottom of my desk drawer — but I’ve never shown it to anyone else. I like to think the secret of you is just mine to keep, like how no one else can hear my heartbeat unless I let them close enough to try.