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You show me an old photograph
That someone took a while ago –
Those same dark eyes, that stifled laugh,
But not somehow the you I know.
Your cheeks burn with another’s touch,
Your lips gleam with her scarlet kiss –
Or do I dread the past so much
That fearful eyes imagine this?
Yet it’s not what I think I see
But something else that isn’t there
That rips my heart with jealousy –
Your quiet sense of cold despair....
And as I look, the thoughts begin
To seize on every silent clue
Until I cannot hold them in –
‘Who took this photograph of you? ’
Flora Gillingham
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