At some point,
I stopped making wishes.
The candles burned, the wax spilled,
and I let it.

​

I wish I could love like I once did,
without loss pressing into my ribs.
To hear a voice steady and sure;
You’ll be alright.

​

I’d wish to hold the child I was
before silence fit better than speaking,
before distance became second nature.

​

I wish I could look in the mirror
without flinching.
That growing apart didn't feel like
the slow work of erosion,
like the tide pulling me under.

​

I'd wish for before;
when love didn’t require translation.
I still wish I could forgive,
to stop feeling like a burden.

​

It’s my special day.
I can’t choose just one wish,
but the wax drips onto the icing anyway.
And it doesn’t seem worth it,
so I rush to blow out the candles,
because there are people waiting to leave.