she calls it black
they say it's brown
with golden streaks
and auburn flecks
among endless waves
and ever present tangles
she says they're brown
they call them black
with a chocolate film
and mahogany tint
among a sea of emotions
and a gleam of passion
for they see it an infinite times clearer than she ever will
YOU ARE READING
Fleeting Thoughts
Poesíai cannot grasp them so i write them down /intended lowercase/