This Is 33

I learned how important I was,

When the little blue card arrived,

And I wasn’t invited.

His eyes shone bright,

His fingers danced with ambition.

With alcohol,

With gathered friends,

A rented room,

With an escape—from me,

I discovered what came first.

I’ll never keep you,

Keep you,

Keep you from the world.

I know they all deserve you.

Still,

What’s cupcakes,

And an overpriced ice cream cake,

And my day dedicated to you,

While I sweat in a hot car

And get nothing but a ride home?

Is that 33?

It ain’t so hot,

And I’m sorry for being selfish.

I know what’s more important.

I only wanted you.

It was there before me.

My protests were comical,

Were honest,

Forbidden,

Evolved into hurt.

I stood around, regardless,

‘Cause I know what’s more important.

I’ve got more birthdays, right?

Playing it cool sorta crumbled,

And he took all my cigarettes,

And my hope,

And my joy.

My father says I can come home,

But home ain’t home.

Happiness ain’t happiness.

Work is work,

And I’m just ready to cry again.

The best moment was eating in bed.

Who am I?

Did she suffer on a table,

Just so I could lay down and die?

Duty tarnished,

And the blood transfusion was for nothing.

This is 33,

And I’m as important as dryer lint.

I know he’ll come back.

I better be thankful for gifts,

for peace,

for borrowed laptops and full fridges,

And rights to his home.

So,

Anything else is my secret.

Compromise to erase any guilt,

Perfect silence for perfect peace,

Something sweet to dull the pain,

And maybe a belated birthday dinner.

It’s ok.