Woke up in a rush of light, piercing
my eyes today. Too bright to keep
them closed or open.
I can't find my slippers, eyes rubbed,
yesterdays mascara under eyes
like bruises from lack of sleep;
evidence of my lost mentality.
The Supremes sang Baby Love in the kitchen
on the radio- he never turned it off.
Three balloons;
Happy Birthday!
Eighteen!
Drink up!
Hot pinks and purples next to orange walls.
Cards in hues of turquoise and blushes of red;

none are from you,
my dearest friend.