A Way Of Black

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I've never been

to a funeral

until today.

I see

dazzling arrangements of

red, yellow, and purple flowers

with long, green stems.

I see

a stained-glass window with

a white dove,

a yellow sun,

a blue sky.

I see

a gold cross,

standing tall,

shiny,

brilliant.

And I see

black.

Black dresses.

Black pants.

Black shoes.

Black bibles.

Black is my favorite color.

Jackson asked me about it one time.

"Ava, why don't you like pink?

Or yellow?

Or blue?"

"I love black," I said.

"It suits me."

"I suit you," He said.

And then he kissed me.

I'm not so sure

I love black

anymore.

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