Shutter

 I became you before college through photographs,

still frames of when you were smiling and meant it.

I want to meet that person again some day through

shutter clicks as we run through the burning streets of

Brooklyn, holding our torches to the amber skies and

singing love song to no one in particular but ourselves and

the people who have come to love us fully and honestly.

I see that person behind your smile and realize sometimes

you never really went away.

Bit your bottom lip, maybe.

Slept away some things, maybe.

Disappeared? Not entirely. No.

When Brooklyn burned at four,

I saw that smile for the first time and

I admit I fell in love with a girl from New York.

Smile sometime, darling, we're only frames away from happiness.