The older I turn

the clearer it becomes,

the more alone I am.

Trying to throw money at it

never makes it better

only makes her colder.

Who ever said

money gauges love?

New lessons

from old wounds;

Years pass

and still nothing changes,

it's just a darker

and deeper reality.

They call it

growing up

but it's now

slowly dying.

Melodramatic and melancholy

learning years are gone,

and chances are missed.

Harder to smile

and easier to fall.

Look back

at times of less responsibility;

a nostalgia,

a longing for innocent youth –

pink frosting

and sleepovers

over empty kisses

and mortality.

Each candle blown out

reminds of

the passage of time,

of friends and lovers.

The clearer it all becomes,

the older I get.