Ebony and Ivory

The dark tresses of her hair,
cling to each other effortlessly.
A matte of sorts, a portrait black,
and unnamed legend in the dark night.
Fondled softly by rough hands,
and kissed often by the river of blood.
An enigma that lasts for a moment,
till the curtain of darkness lifts,
and the beauty that lies beneath
knows no match for wilderness above.
The striking ivory remains tainted,
for the evils disappear in the dark,
but perish not on her pallid face.