Youth, lovers, dreams...life;
gone in the blink of an eye.
Keeping mine squeezed shut.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from James Dorman and writers in Poets and other communities.
Thirty (one) and Neither Flirty nor Thriving.
I'm thirty-one and orbiting the same few mistakes like they're landmarks. London is already awake before I am (or before I've slept) - sirens somewhere far enough to ignore, buses sighing at stops, people moving with purpose I can't quite borrow. I lie there for a bit, tasting last night at the back of my throat, trying to remember if I meant to drink that much or if it just...happened again.
By Stacey Vellaabout 11 hours ago in Psyche
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.