the pictures i held

it was, or could have been,
the late 80s, at best,
after sex, my back,
hard-pressed against the cold,
crumbling stucco wall
of our first apartment.

i'd risen for some reason
and backed away,
grabbing a red shirt
to cover myself,
your camera catching me
dead to track.

you love me, right?!
and i surely did,
the best i could
which was never
enough to quiet
the loudest demons.

did you think
for a minute
or not think at all,
that pictures could
capture the me
you desired?

now, forgone,
far gone to future,
our conclusion
never reached,
so over-developed,
these negatives.

and i haven't been
thinking of you,
or us, at all,
i'm sorry, but
in order to go on,
okay, so not so much.

until now, when,
you randomly drive by,
this time no shooting,
just dropping off a shoebox
full of photos and this note,
"these belong to you, now."