They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
I say a picture is a movie trailer,
of a trip down memory lane.

One look at a photo, of a time now past,
can unravel a strand of memory.

People in the photo can call to mind,
The story behind the image-
  the context that’s missing.

A photo tells a story in the mind.
Captures a candid moment-
A laugh-
A look of pure joy-
Click.

A photo tells more than meets the eye.


Picturesque people, places, and things.
Parts of life otherwise unseen.


A  stolen glance,
A shy smile,
A wistful look,
Click.

Capturing things in the moment,
That would otherwise be forgotten.

Time stands still in a photograph.
Those exact moments in time,
able to be preserved for forever.
Click.

When memory fails,
and recollection gets hazy,
Look back on the photographs.

Professional or Amateur.

Good lighting or Bad lighting.

Blurry lights or Sharp lines.

No matter the photo,
No matter the quality,
No matter the who, what, where, when, or why-
A story it will tell.

Click.

And in the middle of the night
when your thoughts
comes up
of the darkest and most stormy
to the most sentimental
revealed by your
darker side

Who are you, really?
hiding
behind a mask
lower your guard
reveal your real identity

i regret all the times i said leave me alone
you put up with a lot and asked for so little
a little love a little time
a little something from me

but any time i was stressed
or bored or
upset or

you wanted attention i should have known how to give
all i had in me was Leave Me Alone
Leave Me Alone Leave Me Alone
Leave Me Alone and i regret it because

i didn’t actually mean it
to happen but
you did

A poison to my vein
A blockage to my brain

It fogs my mind
Till i no longer hide

Go away from me
Just let me be

There's no room for you
For the love I pursue

I've watched you countless nights and days.
Don't know your name but seen your face.
I've seen you cry and smile and laugh.
You are the One, my better half.

I know your likes your shoulds and wants.
Your musts, your wonts, your oughts and donts.
Your dreams and fears, your tears and hopes.
Your ups and downs, your slippy slopes.

I've heard you breathe, choke up and sigh.
Listed the things that make you cry.
I've watched you work, and rest and sleep.
I've felt your pain like bones deep.

To you I 'm not a that or this.
I won't be a thing you'll ever miss.
A mystery only is what I am.
For you I'm none I'm just a ****.

They said that sensitive people are kind of softy, messed up and weak.
And the world unfortunately has bought into it.
People think it’s somehow much cooler to be insensitive.
So society pushed thoughtful and sentimental individuals to the side.

They labeled us abnormal, crazy, and autistic and neurotics.
Look! They’re even pointing us with their fingers saying:
“Look at them! They give too much attention to the thoughts, feelings, self-talk and psychological impressions and ideas.”
Said the narcissist who checks their Facebook 24/7 for likes and comments on their profile photo.

It’s time like these where I lose my faith on people and God and even existence itself!
Everything seems meaningless, pointless, exhausting. I have to drag my body every day to work even!
It’s times like these where I don’t know what to really say or do.
And in moments like this one my intuition takes over and I begin to fashion narratives to mask my mind’s incomprehensible agony, pain and torture.

Though what’s different is that at nights my body sleeps safe and sound.
But my conscience awakens from the dark and punishes me for my mistakes. Mistakes that I haven’t spoken of yet.
It’s weird to be a human subject. To exist. It is the strangest mystery of all.
To live. To love. To ache. To eat. To speak. To cry. To think. Human life is a miracle! Life itself is freaking miracle man.

My whole life I had scoffed at boys gifting girls flowers
The expensive ones, the kind they saved up for
I thought it was incredibly immature to pay for pretty dead things
When the world is in the process of destruction
And the economy is constantly in inflation
It could’ve paid for a lot of things—
A nice meal or even AirPods

It was until I got a girl of my own
Smiling like she’s the sun
Walking around and tugging me along
I suddenly had the urge to get her a 50-dollar bouquet
Or those fancy ones in a box shipped from Dubai
Or a giant teddy bear—Yes!
A giant teddy bear to fill a corner of her room on top of her pile of trash

Suddenly she deserves pretty dead things
Hold onto them as they slowly wilt
I want her to walk around owning a piece of Earth
It could’ve been an animal or a plant
Shiny gems or a worm
But she deserves the brightest crop among the weeds
The purplest shade nature can make
The pinkest rose
The yellowest sunflower

I’m not even one to write a poem either
But somehow I now belong in the stupid group of hopeless romantics
plucking pretty things from Earth
Despite inflation and pragmatism
I guess it says a lot about us humans
Sentimental *****

I’ve never felt so tranquil
while so numb.

It’s like leaving while
staying still, a calm
pulse in nothing,
music without a sound,
*** without a body.

It’s an erasure of strides
in snow and slush,
a dissolving act,
the cackle of a
wholesome child.

Pure and imperfect.

Today,
I am drifting downstream,
riding the cherry blossoms.

And I’m not stopping this time,
I’m not checking out,
waking up or falling asleep.

The stars will kiss me and I
will drink their light.

I am no longer afraid.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet