R.I.P Polariods

Every person I used to know is changing for the camera. Their only love is there, in a twelve by eight sheet of paper.
This goes out to the ones who like to edit their personality, a fair trade for popularity.
I can tell you don't know me anymore, but maybe we'll forget in front of this flash; or mention of cheese.
Switching through albums; you know the ones that you call old, bring the most memories when you were in an honest picture.
I'm falling in two, two different memories of you. One seems to be more insightful, the other seems to be more memorable.
Setting in this scene, it's far from beautiful, most of all it's further from you. Things must be coming undone as technology progresses.
Lets wish to go back to black and white, where corsets were the first thing that made your eyes more colorful.
Each snap shot is sliding a piece of clothing off your body; I'm contemplating when your knees will be in front of your chest.
I'm already forgetting your face that is masked by false, aroused colors. I'm holding on to the people who haven't been enticed by this fashion.
I miss the fact that the only colors that used to be on your face was your eyes and your lips, I wonder if they haven't changed as you have.
The sky is falling down, the hard part of this all is saying that you're beautiful. I don't know what is more accurate though, you look beautiful; or this picture of you is beautiful.
I came to a conclusion that this isn't the beauty I saw, and if ever I was close to you, this is not how I would remember you as.