Cut the Trace

It's over - please pick up after yourself...

"Even so, when I gaze upon your face-
The old dream wakes that will not die."

I took the back off the frame-
Looked at one last time-
Lifted up the picture and slipped another in front of it-
Replace the back and you'd never know it was there.

You see, I don't belong in that picture-
I'm there, but I don't deserve to be-
I haven't earned it, so I won't look at it-
I'll hide it instead.

This story's told in trinkets-
A movie ticket in a CD case,
Salespapers stashed under drawers,
A purple slip of paper, ink peeling and worn from months in a wallet...

I wanted a part of you to carry with me-
Something stronger than an inside joke-
Something tangible, an anchor to touch-
And have my thoughts float to you and back...

It's got to go, as well, with the rest-
To hide my past away from prying eyes.
I can't get rid of it, though-
Don't want to, at any rate.

I can't keep it around, though- because it wasn't real-
I'm in the pictures next to you-
You couldn't tell from our smiles, our hands-
But the picture was posed.

"Why do you always have to think like a guy?
Do you have to ruin everything?!?"

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, not at all-
That is not what I meant, not at all!"

But it is!
I felt just as you guess, meant everything you thought!
I just never got to say it- and now I can't.

Despite my desire to move on from that night-
I do lament: My kingdom for a dance!

But there were others, always others-
The ones who came and left with other people.
I'm the only one who stayed the whole time-
Snapping the pictures for you.

Those are the pictures that are real - not mine.

I did slip away, for a moment- for a dance-
You were occupied, distracted - It started as a satire, absolute jest.
I felt guilty, couldn't finish- caved in, begged pardon, bowed out, and left.
Returning just in time to take another picture of you and your partner.

Did you even notice I was gone?

That night belonged to you, it was never mine-
No more than pictures hidden in frames-
Tickets in cases, papers in drawers-

No more than the suit I rented-
A disguise to be worn for awhile-
And returned the next day-
Wrinkled on a hanger.

I even tried to save the boutonniere-
Hung it upside down, to save the color-
Refrigerated it - to freeze the flower in that night forever.
It wilted anyway, crumpled, blackened, fell apart.

It couldn't have ended any other way.

Author's Note

The first couple of lines... I took them from somewhere... but I won't tell you where... it's a contest of sorts... I will tell you that I did modify the quote slightly, to make it harder to find... and that where it came from is insanely significant as far as the meaning of the poem...

If you can tell me who wrote it and where, I'll explain the full significance behind it. Please don't comment me your "guess" - send it in a message and I'll let you know how close you are... XD I hope you have fun with this :D

I have another clue, as well: "I'm sure Beethoven meant well when he named "Fur Elise" after a girl - but now, it just seems like she was in dire need of a razor."

I think it's funny... : )