I can’t buy you a black heart, you already have mine

I will buy you black dahlias for when you’ll soon return

When the jacks top the pile and all the judges adjourn

I’ll play you a tune, strum empty space in my theremin

You’ll be blushing carnation posies, a flushed melanin

.

I will buy you black kittens for when you can concede

When the auctioneers play their life, into the final bids

I’ll slay you a djinn, I’ll make xanthene stars disappear

You’ll be drowning in silver, and drinking day-old beer

.

I will buy you black shoes for when you jig and show up

When the most futile of molasses spill over their cusps

I’ll relay a broken melody, perhaps a lost Liberace score

You’ll be avoiding tears on the checkered linoleum floor

.

I will buy you black scarves, keep your arterial blood warm

When the conspiracies falter and gypsies lose their charm

I’ll pray you a stale Angelus, and wait for the Lord to rapture

You’ll be in an open field, awaiting your last inevitable capture

.

I will buy you black snow for when you can finally find your way back home

When I accept the fact that you’re quiescent, resting under loam and stones

I’ll drink my hot eggnog, open presents of shadows, and I’ll solemnly remember

You’ll be cold and white as winter night, like my soul is in this solitary December.

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