Still Life

Someone I knew had a vase which had been damaged and one face was covered in cracks. They liked the vase so just turned the fractured face to the wall. It inspired a poem which took me two decades to finish.

Still Life

People say they know me.
They have a book
With my likeness
On the cover.

I offer them my heart.
They have a picnic.
After they leave
I pick up the rubbish.

They see me as a frame
Filled with a portrait.
They compliment how I look
And sidestep my pain.

People say they know me.
I am an old polaroid
Faded, grainy 
And still smiling.