Photo by Niranjan _ Photographs on Unsplash
your smile turned to fangs
and you lunged right for my neck
I thought we were friends.
About the Creator
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 Vella2 days ago in Psyche
Comments (1)
Love the imagery! So vivid. Amazing how you capture the universal experience of betrayal in so few lines. KEEP. IT. UP.