I recount brief but concrete memories
when I return to those polaroids of you,
just as resplendent as I'd remembered
and your shining beauty radiates through.
But a photograph could never capture
the fine details that the awestruck eye sees,
like the way you try to fight back your smile
or how your soft hair dances in the breeze.
So that's why I keep on staring at pictures;
I'm afraid of losing the precise science
that blends itself to create a paragon,
an Angel cut from chemicals' compliance.
And though the film may keep some detail intact,
just like a photo, you'd never react.