dark room for pictures i didn't take when i told you i would remember the door opened like a cascade of nowhere. into the fade of your face. a humid tongue to stand on. this is my ted talk on why we shouldn't ever be in love. picking sick from from the thumb trees of our town. an abandoned factory spitting bolts into our open hands. i would have accepted anything. the photographs then hanging like moons on their strings. soldiers in their own right. how sometimes an image can be sharp enough to extract your whole life. the times my body was a projector sheet. dipping me in the developer. your teeth in a line across my chest. will i always be swallowed? did i allow the mouth or did the mouth allow me? drinking with our pinkies up. the rusted & dead driveway batteries we have to use to turn on brocade. pictures of feather you took & took as they fell from a slit. i asked for your help but you said you were hungry. everyone is an artist until the hollow becomes a partner. i carried his bag of echoes to the creek. a bullfrog ate a bird. a snake formed an infinity symbol as a joke. i emptied everything he told me about my skin. but the world splashed back at me. i lost my eyebrows to this. the photos bathes bringing them into a future of black & white. this is not a picture of us. this is only a picture of me.