Today I turn twenty-seven.
It feels like any other day.
No messages lighting up my phone,
no knock at the door,
no one calling my name.
I sit at home
with silence stretched across the walls,
holding myself together
because I hate the way I cry.
Twenty-seven today—
and it feels like no one knows.
No cake.
No candlelight.
No wish waiting in the dark.
Just me,
myself,
and I.