"How're you feeling, the night before 32?"
Numb, tired, a little achey?
Grateful for another day?
Is there another way to respond,
When birthdays feel cautious?
A series of unfortunate events at
Pivotal times in development, for sure.
Sitting here, twiddling thumbs
Trying to see how it does feel.
Blankness. Apathetic. Matter of fact.
That feeling oppressive in its nothingness.
Yet a little part, somewhere in the depths
Asks "Why not me?"
Maybe this time it is.
Not the birthday, but the year.
Time to put first what's always been last;
To celebrate years of hard work;
But for tonight?
I'll celebrate 31 years of life.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
