Eyes Full of Sky
An Ode to Lady Mae
By Sydney Lee JonesPublished 3 years ago • Updated 3 years ago • 1 min read
Ah, her tired eyes
blink softly, the final time.
A hue departed.
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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 Vella4 days ago in Psyche
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