Echoes
Horrid echoes
Horrid echoes of what was
what could have been but never was
resound in my head like a colossal bell
horrid echoes of what I thought
hoped you were but really you were not
and such scores of amorphous ghosts
dance around me to a tuneless song
specters of the man my imagination bore
my adaptation of you was magic and more
his ethereal eyes guised perpetuity as short
this man died when you I truly saw
on the rug that you sat when I tried to draw
the face that seemed more than it was
like adjacent cords of the eloquent cello
with incongruent frequencies our hearts do throb
so you saw but comprehend you could not
and now here I am my sweet Pablo
the blueprints of my soul to you I have shown
still on the bleak edge of an abyss I stand alone
hearing nothing but these horrid echoes
if I should jump only I will feel the fall
I have a bad taste down my throat
The noise is really terribly hollow
Oh these horrid echoes!
