“All I wear is Black”
Black, as usual, was the theme. I don’t believe I even did it purposely. It was like that moment the earth ripped my skirt tripping me in my own damn dream, subdued in space. I was then kissed by moon beams on my earthly-dirty face, confused. For isn’t this the color of the dark and the bruised? Or is this the magic of all colors infused into a cocktail of charm and lace I long to drink? Owning that space. Sinking to where every shade screams simultaneously making the scene cry tears of wonder. Where every hue lays content bleeding all of me and all of you unto, all around and under. That owning moment of awe stitching back together my lips of uncertainty. These seams of serendipity. Singing, on the edge of possibility.