I have a firm belief that black is never the absence of color and light but rather a fusion of it. A unification of all the broken and bent. A combination of all colors existing. It is an absorbency of light, and warmth. It is the end product of them all in harmony, with underlying solace and courage. And that makes it heavy, and full. Profound, and substantial, brimming to the point of being mistaken. I don’t know how else to explain it, when you questioned the existence of my love, and my sensitivity. You said you never saw rainbows in me. You questioned my comprehension, and my essence.
For I told you, I’m black. My heart is black. My love for you is black.