Peeling Paint

She sat beside the wall

Her back facing the peeling paint

Mouldy coloured depiction of charred books and mould on damp ceilings

The smell was dry, tenure of a wet field of dried burnt grass

The air was filled with remorse and cold gritting teeth

Time did not stand still as much as she had would wish it would

She lived her day as if it the last

Her heart had done that dance as everyone would do

That rush

That euphoric feeling

The lights

But she had lived her day now as if it the pass

Because that dance her heart had done

Had been crushed against that very wall

Her back now peeled like paint.