There is something
So intimate about
Incomplete photographs,
The vague and abrupt end
Of a picture
Is my calling.
I see these photographs
Basking in joy
Oh, what joy!
Like a woman
Teasing with her bare feet,
Like a man
Baring his half chest,
Like a sly lover
Risqué with subtle gestures.
These incomplete photographs
Flaunt romance
Like an excerpt from a book,
Sans context
Open to perspectives
Ready to be molded into meanings.
Any meaning,
Like silhouettes and shadows
On a lone night.
Romeo climbing the ladder,
Or death crawling in?


Photo by Casper Nichols on Unsplash

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