Yellowed Edge

That photo, still in its frame,

our faces round, no hint of blame.

The sunshine warm, a summer day,

the taste of cake, a happy play.

We thought it was perfect, didn't we,

that moment caught, so bright and free.

But looking closer, now I see

the corner of your mouth, just so,

a tightness there I didn't know

could tell the story of the fight

that tore the edges of that night.

The sugar sweetness turns to dust,

a quiet, bitter, ancient rust.