–Out of Context–
I wish my eyes could take photographs & that your mind could read them in every honest account. I often feel frustrated with my inability to share memories & impressions, for you’re missing the giggles of children in your ears & my lens does a poor job of capturing the way we both fawn over the stars.
How can I show you what the sun looks like as it creates shadows on my feet from a breeze through the willows & will I ever be privileged to show you how the trees look in November as their bare souls expose themselves & their branches reach for something more before they lay themselves down for a time, submissive to all beyond themselves.
No, I can’t seem to lock up the whisked foam of the sea as it touches my toes. & I can’t gift wrap the wrinkles of people I’ve never met but feel genuine love for. I’m missing half the view & you’re missing half the story as each feeling escapes without us, misunderstood by a 4 by 6 image.
From hands stained red with berries & cheeks stiff from laughter, to the flowers frozen in their last breath & eyes more wet than dry. We are missing this. You & I are absent from each other’s lives & only seeing the fabricated “image” we allow to be seen.
But I see you; raw, un tailored, beautiful you, in all your authenticity. & I wish you could see the way people adore that person. The way I adore that person.

I wish my eyes could take photographs because sometimes a camera is sub par & now you see that we’re without the most important part: Context; the real story, the real you.

 

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