Literary Enclave:
Poetry Zone

The night runs deeper, 
Deeper than negligee falling may fathom

Consider the way
Black eye-liner lingers
Just until dawn usurps
With her rosy-petalled fingers

The sting of forgetful wine
Brings an unconscious litany of snowflakes...

Melting, just wishing I had
Ah, the power to streak your face

While the night's as inbred and woven
As all your father's chosen habitudes

And the rude, unseemly
Unmelting moon
Sloughs behind a symbolic dark cloud

Aloud, the silence of phasing stars 
Unamazing for their vibrant discharge
Of rings in apparitional white 

The night means black.