Bending color lines effortlessly...

He wrote me love letters in blue ink. 
Blue flowers with petals fading pink were decorated

along the bottom portion of the plain white sheet.
He was very meticulous.
Very careful.
He said lines were restricting, held too many barriers.
He wanted to be free.
Dared to have a space where words flowed completely,
Assumed the responsibility to allow my love to burn sweet

from my eyes and down my cheek.
He knew just how much I adore metaphors and simile,

simple haikus dressed in fashionable soliloquy.

Telling me he loved me and that he'd never hurt me,
Never judge me,
Just letting me be,

he knew how much it would mean to me.

And this letter was quite the same.

Delivered in the mail under the same name

arriving to my home the same time on a Wednesday.

Though I did not rush to open this one.
I waited.
Waited until midnight just when an orange moon shined the brightest

from my bedroom window and the stars lingered awhile...

Red and yellow petals fell onto the bed.
Sand covered parts of my hand as I slowly began to read all he said.

The white paper was wrinkled and the ink this time was black. 
He seemed rushed.

No matter how patient I tried to read,

his thoughts poured quickly.
Words were scribbled out as if he forgotten how to talk to me.

I once found his italic handwriting sexy and discreet

but now everything seemed so sarcastic and matter-of-factly...

He urged that no matter what he loved me.

Found peace in my eyes and something everlasting within me.
He recalled the long nights at the beach,

staying up listening to the waves crash upon our feet.

Said he never done it before, just up talking.

And the night we sealed our love became more than just a fantasy.
The world around us seem nonexistent.

Politics didn't matter.

Hate didn't matter.

The fact that we snuck around for a year and a half

lying to friends and family to share time away.
To love in a world so different than our own.

A black woman from Harlem.

Falling in love with a man from Europe.

A man whose ancestors controlled all that I stood for

was now doing to me what they did to them.

Strengthened by body.
Making my mind weak.

How could he do this to me...

The black ink forged on the page showed his frustration.

The urgency to let me down easy took hold of me...

The last butterfly that lived in my belly took flight.

From my eyes soared away for all eternity.

I'll never forget the times Love was true, open and free...

Paralectra Divine.