There were never any pictures of her in our camera rolls,
Or on our feeds.
She preffered it that way, I think.

She hated pictures.
She preffered to stay a mystery
To you and to me

I think thats what made her precious,
Like a pearl in the sand,
Because even though
I have no pictures of her to send,

I can remember the way she used to laugh,
and the way she used to stand.

Her face has begun to fuzz,
and soon
I wont remember
How when she smiled
There were dimples on her cheeks.

All because she never liked pictures
And because of one more thing:
Our brains like to write out the faces of the people who we loved
But couldnt
Quite keep

e.i