Colours of a nightmare …

Her dreams fly with the darkest of skies and the deepest of sorrows. Painted pictures, all in different shades of black. Her hair lies gently on the pillow as if carved by Michelangelo himself. Her eyes consumed by REM and flutter like a wing-broken butterly above the grass of summer. Tossing and turning, moist by saltiness and anguish. Suns that will never rise again. Tomorrows that will never come knocking. A whirlwind of screams and hearts speaking in tounges. A normal night for her, another gold medal for what cannot be changed. She tries hard to colour her daylight but at night, she watches her painting turn posterized…