Black and White

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I used to think about

Taking pictures of you in the morning,

on the bed, hair a beautiful mess,

Not knowing where the sheets end

and your skin begins.

I like to think when I’ve had my first camera

I’d snap monuments of you,

statues of black and white and gray,

in high fidelity, in a little screen,

half asleep, and half awake –

 

She was always that beautiful.

 

I don’t know if I should start to think

that I’ll never be able to wake mornings with you.

Every day will be different.

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2 thoughts on “Black and White

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