Kiss my wounds

If you find me below a tree,
Yellow flowers, yellow pages of my book,
Yellow everything
You might think even i am yellow, and thats my colour
I wouldnt tell you otherwise, cuz you might be scared of black.
I wouldnt tell you i am black.
Cuz, you are familiar to me,
Like the verses of my unwritten poem.
And you might start to like me,
I might start to believe you are my yellow.
And you ll kiss me
I end up feeling you can sense my black
So i let you make love with me.
And then you see my wounds.
Some fresh, and some just scars
But are you the kind of a person who ll kiss my wounds?
Will you kiss my wounds?
Or will you walk away when you realise i am not your yellow?
I know you will
And then you ll be like that drop of water in the ocean,
Which ll never cross my feet, even if i stand there for hours.
Why do you hate my black?
Why do my wounds scare you?
No. You are afraid of turning black.