victims of the world...

i think about the way you used
to say good morning, but i have 
long since forgotten the way 
you used to say goodnight. you
are like an old roll of film-
i don't remember the pictures 
i took with it, i don't know
why i never got it developed,
but i keep pulling it out of
my nightstand and thinking
about the memories that lay
inside it like a mausoleum. i
know you wouldn't understand
why you remind me of an old
roll of film, but you aren't 
as great as i imagine you to
be, and i know that roll of
film isn't from Paris or the
winding mountain roads of
Greece, either. i have a habit
of romanticism and we are both
victims of the world inside my
head.