DEAR BLACK GIRL

You're not black anymore anymore then I'm white  

Imagine that you had a large box of Crayola Crayons, the Super Ultimate Box that contains 152 different colors.  Upon a white sheet of paper and you’ve been given the task of coloring a portraiture of me.  
 
Would you pick the White Crayon?  
 
That wouldn't turn out so good, would it?  
 
Now imagine you decided to paint your living room white and you had me accompany you to the paint store where the manager asks you what type of white would you like.  
 
"Miss," he says, "we have several types of white to choose from; Powder White, Eggshell White, Ivory White and Pearl White.  Which type of white would you like?"  
 
 
Would you say, "none of those would look good in my living room."  Pointing a finger at me you proclaim, "I'd like you to mix me up a couple cans of White Boy White."  
 
Painting your living room to match my complexion would be a nightmare.  Your walls would be the color of blotchy earwax speckled with funky spots of purple.  Your living room would look anything but white.  That’s because I’m not really white.  
 
Now let’s say I was given the task of coloring a portraiture of you using the same box of Crayola Crayons Would I choose the black crayon?  
 
I think not.  
 
Save your raven colored hair, you are anything but black.  Instead I'd select the same colors that make up the spectrum of a sunflower opening its petals to the morning sun.  From the Crayola Crayon box, I'd might pick Mahogany, Chocolate and Apricot.  I’d also use Metallic Sunburst and Gold Fusion.  Lots of Gold Fusion.  
 
But alas my sweet sunflower, just as Solomon in all his glory wasn't as beautiful as the lilies of the field, there is no hue in the Crayola Crayon box that is as beautiful as you.  
 
You're to lovely a color to color.