There was a time, you
were a sad song
and I spent evenings
and midnights
staring at your lyrics.
They made little sense,
sometimes none at all.
Yet, it would be
melancholic
when you played,
so I gave up and sat
with you, watching
and talking about
all the black
among the white.
A year later, you
found a new audience,
a new city,
and I,
I found my evenings
dark
and lonely.
It was
all of a sudden
too black
and very little white
and I hummed
a song that you
used to love.
We still meet
at times,
both smiling
but you always
have somewhere to go.
The days you don't,
we sit, like we used to.
My voice
becomes a sad song
that floats in the air.
I talk of the past
you can't seem
to remember.
I look at you
and try
to find you.