She seemed relatable

like a French new wave film—

Her hair was tangled by

the absence of the thrill—

My mind fell blind in the dark

each movement felt removed

In black and white it all looks like

some senseless noir doom.

Descending ladders with a

backwards forward view—

Replaced reminders taken

for some other you—

She stepped calm in the light

another foreign move

In black and white it all seems like

you just might make it through.

Now there’s a towel on the floor

white as a dove

Transcending shadows as if

orders from above

The clock just turns and spins

a spiral of what’s lost

In black and white it all feels like

we’re dying to be caught.

In black and white it all looks like

there’s nothing to turn off.