Happy Birthday

It’s two a.m. –
the bars just closed.

I sit, wrapped in a black hoodie
and wonder if the black ice
caught you by surprise this time
as his hand explored
your skirt
prepping his night cap.

Did you find another
brown haired, green eyed
mother fucker
who reminds you
of our faded picture
stashed in your sock drawer?

I hope not.

Happy birthday.

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