Something has to be said for a photo;
It is a story about yesterday
and everything you have meant to me.
The old cliché is a picture is worth
a thousand words; I guess I believe it.
Because this picture is all I have left
of you. It is smudged, stained and slight-
ly torn. It tells a tale about trouble,
Time and a period when we were fine.
I carry this picture around because
It cancels out all the bad memories
in my head – the constant reminder of
you being dead. What is left to be said?
So much more, I guess – But the silence is
Overwhelming, no one is listening.
The tears keep glistening down my faint face,
A picture cannot a person replace.