she looked back at the vast space before her.

she did that for a very long time,

relishing whatever feelings of warmth she could conjure as she roamed this place one last time in her mind.

she felt a big lump on her throat and a heavier tug on her chest.

she never wished for this to happen,
and hoped she could just wish things away.

she heaved a deep sigh,
and walked on.

perhaps that was how things began,
she told herself,
— when you find the courage to turn your back on things,
and head the other way,

what with broken dreams,
and ugly phantoms,
and little hopes fueling that courage all the same.

and you tell yourself,
as if it would make you feel any better,

endings are beginnings,
after all,

no matter the unlikeliness,
despite it being unreasonable,
and even if it breaks your old and frail and silly, foolish heart.

and you walk on,
you tread on,

farther and further,




1 thought on “XVIII

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