**“In Focus”** Camera in his hand, low light in the room, Everybody quiet when the subject moves. He knows the angles, knows where shadows fall, But this one feels different than the others before. Adam came in calm, just there to shoot, Black shirt, steady hands, trying to play it cool. But the second that his muse looked through the frame, Something in the air started to change. Flash hits once, then the room goes still, Not sure if it’s art or the way it feels. One more shot, then another one too, Like he’s chasing something he can’t admit is true. He’s falling out of focus, Trying not to show it. Every little movement Pulls him closer than he knows it. He came to catch a moment, Keep it clean, keep it composed. But the muse in the soft light Got underneath his clothes. Not in a loud way, not a movie scene, Just tension in the silence, something in between. A look held too long, a breath too slow, A little less professional than either one should show. The camera keeps clicking, but his mind slips, Eyes on the curve of a jaw, then lips. He tells himself it’s lighting, tells himself it’s lines, But he’s been finding excuses to take his time. The muse knows too, doesn’t say a thing, Just gives that half-smile like it’s happening. No one crosses over, but the room feels thin, Like one wrong move would pull them both in. He’s falling out of focus, Trying not to show it. Every little movement Pulls him closer than he knows it. He came to catch a moment, Keep it clean, keep it composed. But the muse in the soft light Got underneath his clothes. The city outside keeps moving fast, But inside that room, nothing wants to pass. No big confession, no perfect line, Just two people caught in the same bad idea at the same time. He lowers the lens, just for a second, Like maybe the truth looks better unedited. And the muse steps closer, slow and sure, Like they both already know what they came here for. He’s falling out of focus, No way left to hide it. Every little silence Feels like an invitation. He came to catch a moment, Now he can’t let it go. The muse in the soft light Turned a shoot into a slow burn. No frame could hold it, No filter made it true. He thought he knew beauty, Then beauty looked back too. Camera in his hand, heart on the floor, He came for the picture, left wanting more. Not every love starts clean, not every line stays straight, Sometimes the best shot is the one you almost didn’t take.
