Just a Sonnet Vi

She is infused with excess melanin, Molded in volcanic skyline - black feminine She is burning like the sun of December Dark as an ember, If the eye of heaven kissed her, she'd melt with chocolate A black fairy - producing black roses Sweet sounds of Thrush her skin composes 14 she goes, rhymes ensue with blackness, she's a black sonnet She a black coffee, the euphony in her flings with one hand Her complexion speaks brown sugar - the sweetness constantly ascends, The geography of her hips keeps the oceans wide Lips glazed with golden honey - honeybees remain tide She is called pitch-black, can I erase that? She a flower, a fruit - rather call her a peach that is black.