Over a cake filled with wishes
you empty the last one on a candle
that didn't stand a chance
 ̶ you become one year older
and in its darkness feel for a knife
the way a love note is held
as a calendar all these years
reaching out for the still warm room
that no longer moves  ̶ even now
a  paper plate is letting you in
as if you had forgotten something
had come too late.