Black and White

(Yes, my amethyst eyes. Whisper me your truth and I will drink it in, like sweet wine, and scatter stars.)

"Black," she slurs the word deliciously, carving it around her lips. "Black for tragedy, sin, and night. Black for unanswered questions, deep shadows, and mysteries hidden in the caverns of the soul."

Black and White, lolling in the wind, technicolour shades in a garden of green. Two idioms, two butterflies. (And I, drinking her seraphic eyes, the wings of iron and lips of clear glass.)

"White?" I ask.

"Depends on Black,"

"Nature's palette?" My turn to grin now.

She laughs, rose-lips tickling against mine. "Without Black, there is no White."

(Stars to warm the heart and cut into the night.)

"As White cannot exist, without the Black."

"Yes."

"So," I prop myself up among the grass: the green that so sharply detaches Black from White. Watching her. She stretches herself among the green, languorous, while the air is lavender silk and musk river and gleaming with translucent stars.

"White," she tosses her hair, "for innocence and day. For the sharp sun that pierces the soul, plays catch with the eyes… White for a delicate violin, that bows and bends under the hand of God."

(Stars, lavender river, blue musk, drowning Black and White and steeping two souls in bronze.)

Trembling fingers – (White angel, I am a sinner. Cleanse me. Spread your wings over my wasted bones, over my dried canvas…) – I touch the tip of my beating heart and whisper, "Black."

And she watches me, intently, her eyes shining like two silver swans – understanding? She catches her breath, sighs, undulates star shimmer.

"White-" I hush, licking my lips,

("-Depends on Black…")

"Together with Black."

(Magic number: Two for doves, lilies, and idioms, for trees that curl and shoulder the sky. Two for the sun and the moon.) "Then," her smile a crescent gracing the green and purple, "Who am I?"

"-To juxtapose Black?"

"To complete Black."

"You are-" Muse, angel, music, heaven, life…shimmer me tender… "White, for the sun that Black will always worship." And I dive, freefall into White, piercing through the pinnacles and pinpoints of milky sea, a bullet through the whiplash of heat and sight and sound. Yes, learning you breath by breath.

(Remind me to breathe, as we sway like two tamarinds...)

- As Black and White twist, twist, merge.