"Black"

The lone wolf,
Standing on the cliff
The light dahlia,
Swaying in the breeze
The dark chocolate,
Slowly melting, fading away
It is black.
Spreadying slowly everywhere,
Grasping, running,
It is bittersweet and melts in the mouth
Plain, bold, and lonely,
It smells of the dewey air after a thunderstorm,
Whispering "do not hurt me
Do not get close to me".
The quiet woods,
The winter,
The dead of the night;
It is black.
It is an electrical guitar,
Playing Pray for Plagues
Blue and grey accompany it,
Satin is what it feels like,
Gentle clinking is what we hear,
It is roadkill,
It is a cold, chilling, pool of water
That leads into a dark abyss
It is black
And it is
Dead.