Memories are often vague. But I guess it’s better that way. ‘Cause when memories are as graphic and solid as photographs, they hurt.
I mean look at me. Quite a pathetic sight really. Clutching our old photograph in one hand and the other shaking in my blazer pocket. Gazing at that smile frozen on your face and that laughter in your eyes. Our hearts still unbroken. The distance still not in existence. Me right next to you with cake icing on my cheeks, looking awfully happy. That guitar you gifted me still intact in the background.
Oh this sight, really… The fact that we’re still stuck inside that time frame, that unbelievable glee still etched upon our faces, happy still inside this photograph… This hurts. The pain that rears in my chest breaks me as it spreads to the tips of my fingers, jolting me out of my wishful past and plunging me right into the reality of our present broken hearts and distances. The present where my guitar lies in heartbreaking shards of wooden pieces in some garbage dump from the night of our worst argument.
Look at this photograph! Those arguments and heartbreaks still undone. A terrible memory of how beautiful everything was! Our love for each other still intact. Not a scratch on the beauty of your soul… Our stainless beautiful smiles…
And look at us now. Outside this photograph. Our souls ripped in places. Our smiles stained with sad and empty eyes. Our love so horribly damaged.
Oh look at the sight of me! Breaking before a photograph! What a joke…
I hope you have our photographs too… I hope you haven’t disposed of ’em yet… I hope you break before them too. I hope your present hurts you just as much as mine does. I hope you feel pathetic too. I hope you cry at least once at the sight of our photographs. I hope you cry over it too. Over the heartbreaking beauty of our love frozen inside a photograph.
This post was inspired by Ed Sheeran’s Photograph.