happy birthday?
um,
you must be mistaken.
(you have the date right
i guess that’s true
but it’s almost night
so i can assure you
that the calendar
must have made an error
just this once, yes
i promise you the calendar
is wrong
this time
because it’s almost night
and the slip and slide
of frozen thoughts
that coats my mind
will shatter soon
as it always does)

it’s almost night.
I can’t be 18, I’m still
so broken
have you not seen
what happens
when the sun goes down?
emotions so plentiful so thick
they turn to liquid
and make a huge lake
in my head
(and with a sharp breath
from arctic lungs
they quickly become ice instead)
the butterflies in my stomach
fly me some skates,
my heart sends a scarf and a hat
through my veins
and the mittens
i already have
so i put them
to use.

it’s fine for most of the day
i guess that’s true
(though sometimes it breaks
and i fall though some new
weak spot
in the ice
i hadn’t yet discovered)
but the biggest crack
is always uncovered at night
when it’s harder
to get back on top
when it’s a lot more difficult to stop
from going deeper
into the mess.

in the dark
(on the deepest dream excursions)
the memories are twisted
to their darkest versions.
when the triggers are knives
and the ghosts are most tangible
it’s hard to find it even
remotely manageable to locate
a ladder
in the dark.
(that is to say,
it’s hard to grab on
when you’re so full of feeling
you can’t think past your head
to find your hands).

i’m not 18, see?
i can’t be.
the calendar must be off its mark–
i’m just some kid
that’s afraid of the dark
and cries when she looks at the stars.

you’ve made me a cake
(it’s very sweet)
but you must be mistaken
just have a seat over there
and we’ll wait
for some other date
to hang the streamers
okay?