How We Looked In Pictures

When my heart stops
its erratic beat,
what will you remember?

Will you picture
those beach days,
hands twined,
fingers touching hidden skin?
Will you remember that I loved you?

When this body is gone
and can no longer
entertain the future,
will you think of me
less than you do now?
Will you imagine my smile
and the words I will never write,
the songs I will never sing?

How long will it take
for you to forget me?
To live like I never lived?
How long will it be
until I’m only shadows
filled with yesterday’s smoke
and time’s ticking clock?

I wonder if memories
stay with us
where ever we go
or if the end is really the end
and people forget your face
except for how you looked in pictures
instead of how your mouth
curled into laughter,
into life when you had it.

Will I be so easily forgotten?
I think yes
because it’s inevitable
for life to overshadow death,
for living to forget dying.
And that’s sad
because I want to be remembered.




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