my party hat is melting
and the decorations are dissolving.
everyone is sitting around the table
and singing,
but all i can hear are scattered sounds.
"there's always next year,"
my mom says.
i sob
and feel warm tears
stream down my face.
a lone candle sits on a cupcake
burning down the wax
for the last time.
what happens when next year
never comes?
- S.M.
"next year"
YOU ARE READING
i feel more than other people
Poetrythis poetry collection embraces mental illness, trauma, passion, anger, and family relations through vast seas of words. my hope is to inspire others by turning raw heartache into relatable moments. warning: this book contains potentially sensitive...
