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.
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