273

I deleted 273 pictures that I had of your face off of my computer today.
A face I thought I would die staring at.
A face that I thought was only possible in dream.
A face that could have only been created just for me.

I played that album over an over, everyday, each shot fading into the other.
Each moment replaying your smile as if it were the first.
Each time playing different encounters of us.
A hug, a kiss, a stare, watching your face and your breath while you slept on my chest.

I stock piled your pictures as a squirrel would his acorn preparing for the winter.
I had to have them.
I made fun telling you to send me more pics but they were my acorn.
Each pic was showing me a new day that could be born through your eyes.

The darkness I was in, didn't need a moon or a sun or a starry sky.
It needed you.
The giving over to you rivaled Niagara's passion and I didn't know how to tell you.
If it was a crush, infatuation or love, I only knew I had to have your face.

I'd see you that day, leave and go home only to start the slideshow.
Pictures where you smiled, where you didn't, where you looked serious, where you looked sad, with hair over your eyes.
Over and over again for the first time.

I trapped your essence in those 273 pictures.
But I was the one that was trapped.
My darkness seemed to be on the outside when I watched your face.
And it seemed as if Love was going to give me another chance to get it right.