To love a photographer
Is to love watching her chase
The shadow of some self-established goal,
Racing with a deadline only she can see

To kiss a photographer
Is to kiss the dewdrops from her morning shoot
To feel the passion with which she fills her art
To taste the longing for a muse you cannot be

To worship a photographer
Is to worship all the ugly, damaged flaws and moods overcastting a sunny sky
Her completely pathetic punctuality
Yet unnecessarily brisk pace

To learn to love a photographer
Your face need be a reflection
Hidden meanings abandon you naked in front of cold, lonely lenses
Judging and deeming, melting your mask

To be a photographer
You strip reality from the physical
Living in a universe set apart from tender contact
Can you really love someone like that?