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