Trying to be authentic, she writes.
But her words are hollow
and they fail to convey anything.

Her sister turned thirty today
reminding her of own big ‘three-o’,
years ago now
which she regrets.

Walking through London,
she passes the restaurant where she celebrated,
just her and him in a booth.

He gave her a ring.
It didn’t fit,
and the promise that accompanied it
is still waiting to be kept.

by Rebecca L. Atherton
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