purity

her eyes lost focus as she pressed her palms into the snow.
purity.
that, she longed for.

how she craved feeling… anything.
anything.
the emptiness inside her caused her to cringe in revulsion; the familiarity of the void… repulsive.

how long had it been?

bile rose in her throat, threatened to choke her, but she forced herself to take calm, steady breaths. she would not surrender to the looming shadows of the past.
the stinging pain in her hands was a welcome sensation; a wake-up call, shaking her out of the numbness, which had been a permanent resident in her body, in her being.
her fingertips, stark red on a canvas of white, started pulsing… throbbing.

alive.
she was alive.

cold wetness soaked through her dress.
snowflakes drifted from the sky, to settle on her already damp hair.
her breath steamed, leaving wispy, playful traces of her identity in the freezing air.

breathe.
in… out…
in…
out.

the first rays of dawn touched the horizon.
day had come.
she greeted the light, welcomed the passing of the looming shadows.

day had come.

her eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
on this cold winter morning, she had been reborn.

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photo credits: under-cloudy-sky.blogspot.com

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