Darkroom

Well that was fun, I think. I might be wrong;
I know myself, but cannot figure you.
You are the breathing spaces in my song,
The place behind my head and out of view.
You are the white space left down on the page
While large black letters draw the eye away,
The shadows under sunlight, the backstage
When all attention's focused on the play.
But I look for those spaces while the rest
Are struggling to see the obvious;
Yet I still cannot tell. I try my best,
But do not know you - and cannot know us.
So while I strain to see the negative
Might there be some assistance you could give?