Pictures of the Past
i found that box beneath the bed,
with letters that we never sent.
a Polaroid of when we laughed,
before we knew what goodbye meant.
the colors fade but still, they speak—
of younger hearts and fragile weeks.
these pictures of the past
still echo when i breathe.
a frozen frame that couldn’t last,
but still won’t let me leave.
i see your eyes, i hear your name—
in every smile, i feel the flame.
we were a story moving fast…
now we’re just pictures of the past.
that summer trip, the lake, the fall—
you in my jacket, barely small.
your scribbled note: “don’t ever change”
still holds the weight of something strange.
we didn’t know what time could steal,
or how the silence learns to heal.
these pictures of the past
still live in black and white.
the moments slipped too fast,
but burned into my life.
you were the start, you were the spark—
a light that flickered in the dark.
we didn’t know we’d never last…
we're just pictures of the past.
i don’t regret what we became—
some love is meant to feel, not frame.
but if i ever lose my way,
your memory is where i'll stay...
these pictures of the past
still hold me when i sleep.
a snapshot of a love so vast,
i couldn’t help but keep.
and though you’re gone, the moment stays—
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