Black as night she painted her nails,
Like the despair hidden deep in her soul.
It reminded her.
It mocked her.
She held it close and examined it.
She awoke at night and fought to not remember,
But it beckoned and descended like a cloak she bore every waking hour.
The paint chipped and with it, her tears fell,
More so with a kind word or with the spontaneous laugh of a child.
With the laughter and the tears, the hours that seemed like days once again became twenty-four.
Hope took root and the shoots of it grew.
They pierced the pain, the loneliness of sorrow,
And slowly without noticing,
the cloak was replaced with dreams and plans
And laughter and love.