Dark hair

She made your hair form the night.
There is a part of the world that is cursed in light because she saw it fit that on your head it should sit. The night.
The sensual love creating hours, when man and woman both live in dreams.
So long and flowing making shapes of the ocean.
As a child I would fear the dark, but this dark has tugged at my heart.
True, I don't know were this will lead, but when that sun begins to set and the darkness takes of over. I wish to braid my fingers in it my lover.
Then comes that feeling that keeps lingering.
I hold it at bay tell the break of day, but when the sun begins to dip it comes back like a sickness.
Her Hair was made from the night, but it is I who will hold her tell the morning light.