pictures.

these pictures i am holding,

are frayed and torn at the edges.

like pieces of a memory,

a reminder of what was once,

something worth remembering.

sometimes i flip them over,

to keep them from staring at me.

i wonder why i keep them,

when they are showing me ghosts,

of people i no longer know.

i want to lock them in a drawer,

or tear and burn each one.

i don't want to look at them,

each person knowing who i am,

and what we could never be.

each image is a point in time,

a moment we shared together.

but now they are just faces,

of the people i've come to hate,

and of those who've done the same.

i wonder why i keep these pictures.

i wonder why i hold these memories.

i wonder why i let them slip away.

i wonder why it changed so much.

i wonder why they changed me.