the smile that rounded her face
and crinkled her eyes, she hated
being photographed laughing
as the lines under her chin showed,
but now these digitised pasts
are all that she has to remember
the feeling of it. not that it’s possible
to miss yourself, and if it were
what would it feel like? nostalgic,
regret, heartache, fraying? not that
it’s plausible, or understandable,
to want a life back she once
thought wasn’t enough. not that
it makes sense to anyone, to crave
herself, but she does. she does.
