Birthday cake.

You used to unnerve me.

Until I didn't care anymore.

Until I let myself indulge

every so often

without the suffocation of guilt.

And now, I don't even want you.

I don't even want myself.

You remain on a forgotten shelf,

wasted, past the expiration date,

and I wonder why I can't be buried

like you eventually will be,

at the bottom of a dirty trash can,

giving companionship to the grime

and memories I can never fully digest.