a poet's impression: in the after image

She looks at me in a way  
that says she doesnít like me †
and that sheís not very comfortable being photographed † †
afterwards I smile, with a thank you and †  
she slips back into the crowd of people † †
thatíll ignore me this weekend † †
† †
I didnít like her words, they reminded me † †
too much of the things I donít have † †
and secretly want, but will never tell anybody † †
that I want † †
because Iím too strong and too weak † †
to admit that I crave something so basic † †
† †
And sheís not the first to look at me † †
like Iím an ant on the side walk of life † †
someone that she could step on, or pass†  
without ever really considering my existence † †
past the lens of my camera that I carry like a shield † †
to protect me from the glare of faces † †
that would rather be elsewhere, unphotographed † †
† †
Sitting at home, in the chatter of my own mind † †
buzzing from words and people that set my soul on fire † †
I consider the afterimages of the people now set to paper †  
2D images of someoneís soul, that canít quite capture † †
the essence of the life behind their eyes †
† †
Their faces speak a hundred different stories †  
I am tired but happy †  
I am sad behind my smile † †
I am discontent †  
I am playful † †
I am awake † †
I am hungry †
I am here
† †
† †
© Indie Adams 2013
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published | Edited 11th Aug 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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