broken portraits

She is active, calculating in photographic images.
I am less activated, outlining in cloudy impressions.
She becomes quick, trusting these video stills.
I become dull, misbelieving my busted camera.
She mistrusts her belief in her pictured observing, and there is faith in that self doubt.
I see not to distrust, yet I don’t assume from facts in broken portraits.
Questioning her revelations, she forgets why she asked herself.
Answering my revelations, I forget what the questions were.
When proof fails her, she doubts everything.
When proof fails me, I am correct again.
She continues fast and sharp, in her clarity.
I continue boring and less fast, in my fog.
She wants a plan, without desires or objectivity.
I wish my desires, with no plan that I can see.
She has new confusion in her understanding.
I have new understanding in my confusion.

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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