The cake was
red velvet,
a side of ice cream,
I feel bloated
and happy for once,
I reflect upon the years
as I splurge money
on books -- a favourite present,
I buy all the hot picks,
Nomads, Sleeping Beauties,
and somehow
I am able,
in this bookstore,
to read between
the lines of my existence,
all is air,
all is thought,
all is worthless,
yet at the same it's
not,
and as we read,
we laughed,
we grew into
versions , into mirages
of strangers
we once knew
from only dreams
of growing up,
I am not hungry,
I am not sick,
I am bright
were others are
heavy,
I see people
in fleeting seconds,
there you are -- I say,
and as I look at the city lights,
the lone stars in a place between
the breaths of our existence,
here I am -- I say.