The Picture Frame

You gaze at the edges of the aged, steel frame
Your eyelids quiver in desperation to keep looking
The cool, blue border, blue as deep as a bottomless pit, catches your eye.
Dust covers the frame.
You stare at the dirty cream outline around the picture. So bland, yet professional.
All that beauty then gets tucked away, concealed under smooth silk. But that silk is a lie.
When you’d first look at it, you see how beautiful it is. But when you realise what‘s under the surface, you feel dreadful.
You stare closer at the silk. It hides the exquisite artistry of the frame.
You want to rip out the frame, but it has to go.
You take the encased frame and hide it inside a large suitcase. You enclose it with black straps. Now it’s time to say goodbye.
You hand the suitcase to the driver of the moving truck. You watch it gradually drift away.
The memories go with it. Farther, and farther into the distance, until finally it’s gone from sight.