The Party is not Mine

The bright yellow knife in my chest -

Confetti soaking up my blood

Like a birthday party

I know I will eventually get kicked out of.

Or if the party is mine

None of my friends will show up

And if they do

They are all an hour late

I would rather not throw the party

Then watch the balloons pop

In my face

Starting a fire

for the candles to be blown out anyway

I would rather be held

In the arms that hurt me

Than smile alone

I would rather be cradled

by familiarity

Than smile in unknown territory

I would rather be embraced

by misery

Than smile naively

As I have grown older

Turning a new age

I have accepted

The good times are

always followed by

expired icing on the cake

Happiness does not

sit in comfortable silence.

A straight path always has a bump -

A fall to rock bottom -

So why not just lay on the ground?