blackisthecolor

When I think of my true love’s hair, whether it could be the shag that falls over their eyes like fringe off a leather jacket, or if it could be the long waves that flow down their back like a spilled ink bottle, it’s always a rich, evening black.

I would love to see how their hair stands out against every pillowcase or against every stucco-covered wall.

How it could guide my eyes up to the vintage chandelier with arms coiled like their twists, or down to the violets they planted to match their highlights.

I kept this space a dull white when I first moved in. I thought scuff marks and nicotine stains would be all the color I’d allow in my home.

But when I started thinking of how I could share this home with my true love, I started to think of how their color could freshen all the coats.

How I could finally find someone who loved my dishwater brown hair as much as I loved their black licorice braids.

I’m finally ready to find that person’s beautiful black and see it against every wall. I just need to let him or her come inside.