*PoeticWhisperer

has written a poem about it:

[link]


Pain to her had always been painted in black
the darkest tones; she felt
suited that which was trapped in her agony filled heart
a tar like substance which stopped it from beating
with the life she longed for

In tones of black she was safest
knew the boundaries and was well aware
of those who held the paintbrushes
which painted her darkness

It covered her eyes to all the colours of the world
the hues; as bright as they were
could never be seen through masks of midnight
in daylight hours

That was until one day as winter turned
its frost into the gentle; aromatic blooms of spring
and scents of daffodils and freshly mown grass
wafted into her room
that she realised it was she
who kept herself locked in black

In white lace she ventured
into fields of green that day
a black sash tied around her waist
the only hint of the colour that had been her world

She gathered the pain
held so tightly for so long
and she released it to the sky
in the form of black balloons
she sat in the grass and watched them float
until they were but tiny specks on the horizon

Watched as they turned to rainbows
stretching lazily skyward
while she promised herself upon ever colour
that she would never return
to shades of black