you laugh, count the flickers
the small infernos atop buttercream,
but inside you feel quietly smoldered.
they wink & sway, your slow resigned
reminder that time waits for no one.
sixty-eight on the cake, too many–
too much wax for a tiny life.
you wonder if flames burn brighter
now because of all you’ve endured,
the wars waged within yourself,
the silent battles others never saw,
the scars pressed into old skin,
a map only you can trace.
but still you light them anyway,
still you dare to make a wish.