Brilliant Shooting star
Glorious flash, then you’re gone
I yearn for the same
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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 14 hours ago in Psyche
Comments (2)
I've never seen a shooting star before. Loved your poem!
Some year ago I saw a shooting star making a wide blue flair, never saw the like, and since then I know your feeling. I forgot to wish upon it, did you?