remnants

New Mexico address. Opening the box, my fingers feel it before it actually registers. A slight tremor in the hands. Enclosed- a stack of photos, lives only worth forgetting. But I think about the past like that- disposable, keeps you stuck. Get rid of it. I don’t have any photos for a reason. I have changed my name for that same reason.

Me as a a baby- blonde hair, soft smile, teal striped shirt, gripping a Lego. And as a gay in my twenties- kissing ex girlfriends in photo booths, laughing on road trips, dogs on laps.

Then there are the ones that make my hands shake, create raw emotion. I spool out.