Yellowed Paper

I envy the memory of cameras
It’s not fair
a simple Polaroid
holds more details of your smile
than my brain

The red line of your lips
ever-faithful
to the confines of a strange frame
While in my memory
your face is always shifting
slightly out of focus
like you can’t stomach the attention

Every version of you
from memories to pictures in shoe boxes alike
ever-fading
blurring a little more into each day
slowly doused
with a relentless tinge of flame

Sylvia Heike is a writer from Finland. When not writing, she enjoys hare spotting in her garden and long walks in the forest. Sylvia also feels at home with technology and is currently working on a novel that features androids. Her work has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, SpeckLit, and other publications. You can find her website here.