I immerse a lilting fingertip into the Milky icing of My birthday cake Intending to celebrate Another year of life
But I am not struck by the Pride of aging but instead by the Shame of a compulsion The flame on the candles brings
And licking the icing off my skin I replace the icing with The searing heat of The candle stick
Wincing not only at the feel Of my skin charring in the heat But also at the sick Guilty pleasure I receive from the action
This isn’t what Age Is supposed to bring
Pride At watching my maturity change Pleasure At new, refreshing experiences Love Of the expanding number of memories I held That is what I thought Age would bring
But no Instead it carries with it Shame At the growing cravings for pain Guilt For the hidden experiences in darkness Hate For the inability to stop the thirst
Dipping your fingertip through the Milky cream of cake icing And dabbing it on a lover’s nose?
No It is more along the lines of
Dipping your fingertip through the Searing flame of the cake’s candles And dabbing ointment on the shameful burns
You gain as many friends as your age represents But these friends are Shame Embarrassment Neglect And every other negative thing You never thought age would bring