i am the old, crumbled up photograph
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
two copies, mine framed and yours folded in half,
been in there a week, i know you forgot it.
i am the old, crumbled up picture
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
do you think we can remain what we once were,
with the weight of your suppression upon it?
i am the old, crumbled up polaroid
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
what once was us in hues of red and blue, left devoid,
neglect was only there cause you brought it.
i am the old, crumbled up portrait
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
spilling through the page, black ink inscribes the date,
you wouldn’t have thought to, so i wrote it.
i am the old, crumbled up page
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
my misery, you, unfazed,
we were both faulted, but was it the same, the way we fought it?
i am the old, crumbled up painting
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
you, me, and this pretty little thing,
all twisted and knotted.
i am the old, crumbled up image
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
try to reach me through a crumbled bridge,
before it collapsed, was it so hard to have caught it?
i am the old, crumbled up film
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
the things we did, at a whim, the line we walked, so damn thin,
what was and what is, you’re not the only one who lost it.
i am the old crumbled up print,
somewhere in the deep end of your denim pocket,
its not about what you did, it’s what you didn’t,
and you are the name i keep in my brass locket.
i am the old crumbled up photograph
you hold in the regret of your hands,
the gleam in us and
the love you never spotted,
what was it like remembering to take out your denim pocket?