Day of regret

My birthday comes like a mirrored door,

Reflecting years I cannot ignore.

Each candle lit feels less like cheer,

More like a count of fading years.

It marks the miles I did not choose,

The quiet wins I seem to lose.

Another year, and still alone,

With empty rooms and a silent phone.

It stirs the ghosts I keep inside,

The regrets I’ve never set aside.

Old shadows rise with every date,

And speak in voices I still hate.

So I walk through this harshest day,

While brighter things feel far away.

Yet even here, in grief and rain,

I breathe, and then I breathe again.