Dear Melanie

Source: Mickalene Thomas’ ‘Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe: Les trois femmes noires’

Every day I thank the lord,

That I was born with your resplendent glory

Ours is the oldest tale ever told

An ancient epic, a classic love story

Dear Melanie, I often wonder,

How terrible it would be,

To live in a world devoid of color,

What a wretched existence, so utterly dull and dreary

Of course, we’ve rarely had it easy,

Our bond forged in the fires of history,

Wrought from purest, darkest obsidian,

And gleaming, sun-kissed ebony

No mortal prize can part us,

Not for the sun, the moon, or all that is holy,

Our love is written in the stars above us,

Threaded across an infinite cosmic tapestry

Dear Melanie, there’s so much that I’ve never been able to say

The joy, the heartache, and all that sees not the light of day

But with the heavens as my witness,

Ask me now, how do I love thee?

Dear Melanie, let me count the ways.

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