The party ended long ago
Yet why I’m still here I don’t know
The music of the broken chair
A symphony that spreads, threadbare
The red balloons float near the wall
Their strings drift slowly toward the hall
Beneath my thoughts, a wistful broom
The dust around it sweeps the room
A candle molds on windowsill
It holds a light that sits too still
Whose slice of cake lies on the floor
Within the shadow of the door
I don’t remember who was here
To celebrate throughout the years
I want to stay, although I know
My party ended long ago