The Capturer

The Capturer

 

Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes

and not see the world around me. Pretend

I’m not the way I am, compulsed

to save. I take pictures of the dirt

because I love the patterns, afraid

to forget. I pick up flyers, ripped

by the wind, wanting to know stories

that weren’t meant for me. But if I shut

my eyes I cannot take things that aren’t

mine, can’t stow away pieces of the world,

can’t capture the things that captured me.

3 thoughts on “The Capturer

  1. I mean….all of this. It’s ethereal and lives in a place in between all those things you don’t want to lose/forget.
    “Pretend/I’m not the way I am, compulsed/to save. I take pictures of the dirt/because I love the patterns, afraid/to forget. I pick up flyers, ripped/by the wind, wanting to know stories/that weren’t meant for me. ” are the kind of lines you want to crawl inside and live in.
    I am moved and more human from this work. Thank you so much.

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