Black and White

(No, this is not a poem

About racism;

Because in my country

It’s not that simple.)

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Mahogany-Brown

Mahogany-brown, heaven-sent,

My love

A sublime work of art

Perfect, so perfect.

 

Cloaked in black, like the night

My love, mahogany-brown

Every curve fitting in mine

The piece which completes my puzzle.

 

We don’t need violins and pianos,

My love, mahogany-brown

Symphonies play in our embraces,

And in the brushes of our fingertips.

 

Hollow inside but full, so full,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Richness flows into my soul,

Cathartic, lifting me from the world.

 

And even when my fingers are callused,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Smoothness will never roughen

Because immense purity is untouchable.

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