Much Melanin
Enchanted!
Like a spell cast upon her tongue she could never bring herself to say yes. So many suitors come and gone. She was afraid of what. Unsure of whom. Fairy tales parading her head sometimes way too close to reality for her touch. Whispers of a broken heart bound to occur hunt her. A penny for your thought they would ask. She would shake her head ever so violently; there is nothing on my mind. Lies upon lies, there was always something on her mind but her tongue could not comprehend her thoughts. Her heart saturated with the black from her mind it was no longer cherry red but ox-blood red soon to be dead blood. With the tips of her finger she would try to spell in the sand, to write out her heart, but before she could put in the final piece to the puzzle, before she could write the final word to her lover the ocean waves came and washed her story away. She was the turbulence that disrupted her thoughts. None other than her had cast this spell. ...
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