from the corners.

the pages were frayed,

a distant light flickering

like the wings of an injured butterfly.

hope seemed like a faraway memory

of yesterday,

so close, yet out of immediate reach.

a sigh escaped from her lips,

downcast eyes holding the gaze

of an empty hall.

what seemed to exist just wasn't there.

no, not any longer.

not anymore.

what was left were memories

of what once was, lingering

like a scent.

she was too reluctant to let go.

it was like giving up, quitting, forgetting,

forgiving.

unhealthy as it was,

she just wasn't ready.

no, not at all...

for she loved basking

in her anger.