Ghost Notes

In the stillness of spring,

Still reverberating,

The overtones still fade

And for goodness sake,

But not for good. /

This wavelength isn’t new;

It’s what I asked for.

But the beggar is now blacked out,

Trying to rebuild the polychrome past. /

Only anew will the lens focus,

And I shutter to think of what I’ve filtered out.

I chose this monotone, sepia life

For all its old fashioned glory.

I guess the grass is always greener. /

I’m trying to develop

My own negativity,

As I dive through this optical disharmony,

Rhythmically pulsating

While vividly dissociating. /

I know it’s contradictory,

But the spectrum dictates

That all my opposing views can coordinate. /

I’m waiting to be whitewashed,

To bask and be bathed in color

To feel love, warmth, and anything

Other than indifference. /

I’m glad spring is here,

I have some growing to do.

Maybe by next year

I’ll be over you.