Today is November 8.
In 20 days, it will be a friend’s birthday.
I have this thing with people born in November,
they will either treat me the best, see me as the best, love me like no one’s better
or they leave me burning in embers.
Do I even want to find out which one
would you be?
I am already searing by your fire,
burning away, sizzling, I am tired.
Without you even touching me yet,
I’m already bent, spent, wet, weak on my bed.
In 20 days, I am the one who will make a wish that I wish I baked your birthday cake.
In 20 days, I am the one who will celebrate that I too, will turn 28 and not die by the lake.
Do I even want to know who you’re spending your birthday with?
As if I need more reason to feel weak?
Who’s lighting your own fire, who’s blowing your candles?
Who will make your wishes come true?