It was always close, for those times. Times when it gets hard, or times where it hurts. The photograph holds the memories so that they can remember, times where their eyes don’t close, where they’re wide and full of laughter; times where their hearts are never broken, where they’re intact and burning bright with passion. In these memories, time stands still.
Keep it close to your heart, this photograph of memories; hold it close, these eyes full of laughter; may you never be alone, not with a full and loving heart. These memories will bring you home, my dear, let them carry you.
Let it heal, let it mend all the holes that have been left by the empty spaces of your memories. I can be kept, like a photograph in your pocket, where you can keep me close, and when you meet my eyes, know you won't be alone.
If my photograph tears, know that's okay, after all, it is only your words that make me bleed. Hold me close sweetheart, and remember that as long as you hold me, I'm not letting you go.
Remember that necklace, the one from 10th grade? It rests above your heart, above where you fit me, breathing in time with your heartbeat. I’ll be home soon sweetheart, but until then, remember that night, the kiss under the lamppost back on sixth street. Until then, wait for me to come home.