John Tustin
Her hair is a curtain of black
Falling over her present and her past
And her eyes so brown
That they appear black
Except in the dark
Where they are most exquisite and delicate,
Wet with her tears
That I would kiss away
As I lost my fingers in the inky curl
Of black hair so thick and mesmerizing.
Born to love her,
With the blackness of my soul
Mixing with the blackness of her hair –
A waterfall of black falling
In my fingers, in my eyes
As I look into the darkness of her eyes
Lost in them but also finding
The lovely darkness
Of myself,
Deeper and darker
Than the bottom of the ocean
That hides heaven
As it reveals hell.