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.