Matching Colours Poem by T. M. Isaac

It truly is a perfect scene: You, I,
These brightly coloured residues,
unspoken words and feigned easiness
smeared around us, a glorious composition.

The lens sees what the lens sees,
it misses most. Our faces a little grainy,
the sun reflected off polished smiles
makes it all the more difficult to see
the grain of truth behind our matching grins.

It would seem exposure is never quite long enough.

The ultimate backdrop: clear skies, blue water;
gentle wind, gently brushing your gentle hair.
Appearances patched over those pretenses that undermine us.
Nevertheless, It really is a perfect scene, even if somewhat staged.

It managed to capture something more than colours.
That perfectly frozen moment that has eluded us both:
an image of each other that will never alter
locked within an almost perfect instance,
clandestinely laced with fake stances of togetherness.

The lens sees what the lens sees:
remnants of false perception. It reveals
the strong will to never gaze behind the veil,
strewn of phony smiles and insinuated words.