by K. Richardson
I find myself staring into the eyes of a picture,
a piece of paper that captures a moment in time.
A feeling of happiness comes over me
as I recollect the times when I was in the picture,
a time when sadness and grief
were too difficult to comprehend,
a time when nothing else in the world mattered to me
except the beating heart
that was pressed up against mine,
when I felt as though I could close my eyes
and feel myself flying through the clear blue skies
and feel weightless as I soared high above the clouds,
when I felt as though I was frozen in time
with the one thing that was important to me.
Now as I open my eyes I see
that I am no longer a part of the picture,
but merely an outsider looking in
on the beauty of a love that used to be,
and the only thing I can feel is the tear
that slowly makes its way down my cheek.