Some days, she goes into the darkest shade of melancholia. The darkest shade of black is comforting. The darkest shade of black is calming. Darkness is kind whenever emotions get heavy and the only nostrum is undisturbed dormancy. Some days, only some days; as nothing lasts forever. Not gloom. Not life. She doesn't know about death.
The melody of the lashing raindrops on the roof drown the internal cries. Tears stream down. Quietly. What ails her? Her skin and bones will turn to dust just like yours. She knows that. In this ephemeral life, she cries to purge the pain held deep within. The scars of lacerations on the heart still hurt, the shards of broken trust still pierce. She cries to purge. Some days, only some days. The other days, she smiles.
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