Photo by Daphné Richard on Unsplash
Little yellow bud
Called a weed by those who do
Not understand hope
About the Creator
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More stories from Joelle E N 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 9 hours ago in Psyche
Comments (4)
Oh wow! You knocked it out the park with this one! Well done, Joelle!
A great outlook on such a small thing 🥰
love this so much!
This one is my favorite so far!!! The last line really adds the masterful touch.