Red love is roses
blue love is tears
white love is pure
as a rain drop.
Green love is new love
and grey love is sad,
but black love is a hunger
that won’t stop.
I have known black love
beneath hell’s own skies
and I have to admit
I enjoyed it.
The thrill of the chase and
the tension of waiting
and each kiss which may well
have destroyed it
Black love is blindness
and you’re lost in each other
unable to see
the other side of the room.
It is life at it’s highest
for the fear of it’s lowest,
it is exhilaration
and doom.
Come love me, black love
we’ll meet in the shadows
and wrestle and burn
until dawn.
The hunger can linger
for it tempts me to feed it
and each time we touch
it’s reborn.
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Love is darkness.
You do the dark side so well…
Once you go black, well, you know the rest.
The best kind of love.
This rings a bell. I may have to go back to “black” myself!
Loving this loving.
Again, you prosper in the shadows
This is very cool and quite thrilling, Marge,
Well now I’m surprised and wondering – not a bad state to result from reading a colorful love poem
Hey lass! Saw you on MS and decided I just had to come over. Good write!
Gotta taste all the colors, LM!
I’m looking for some black love right about now.
What do they say about going black and going back?
Love that sexy black love.