Black & White Photography (Edit)

The glossy film in your hand

holds two faces:

one etched into it, and in the light, 

a reflection of yourself. 

Fingertips flick through, pausing on a photograph

As a memory slithers forth to the front of the rest, 

A recollection. 

I reached out to you, 

My hands, an ill exposure, 

glistening with papercuts and sweat 

the result of handling your pictures in secret. 

You kept the photograph away from me.

I asked why there were faint traces of yellow around the edges

You caught my stare

I focused my eyes away, at the door. 

I left you alone in the dark room; 

Speaking to no one:

“This photo yellows with age

and we are of an egg, the core.”