the camera

your finger touches the button of the red camera in my hands that shout joyfully from the caress of your skin. your dry tips on my calm pretense. the shutter winks at the inessentials, like the fact that you are not mine alone. the camera, and what it misses capturing, lets them live uncropped so that hope travels afar. that and a promise that I will sip your strong coffee when everything else blurs.

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