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.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
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.
It was my eighteenth birthday today.
Everyone was lovely, but I sobbed for two hours in my room when everyone went for decorations because my best friend didn't send me a message or a card- didn't even give me a quick call.
Best friends, am I right? Forgetful to a fault.
Forgetful to their best friends, when they need them the most.
-Sally
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