Polaroid Possibilities (a.k.a. me trying to be poetic while missing you and failing miserably)

I regret not taking photographs of:

You sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room

going over the videos on your computer.

You sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room

mumbling to yourself.

You in bed, sleeping peacefully,

facing the wall,

with just your messy hair,

pale shoulders and upper back

in view.

Your sleepy, gorgeous, sexy morning face.

That moment when you got out of bed to check your phone

and that fucking attractive dimple of yours

decided to show itself.

You staring out of my living room window.

You looking up at the sky tower.

You intently checking out the artworks in the art gallery,

jacket on one arm.

You sitting on that bench,

waiting for me to alight the bus on that windy, and colder than usual, Wellington morning.

You walking closer to me,

greeting me with a hug, as I said something about the cold weather.

Boy, you would have made the perfect subject.

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