Colher de Prata

Happy birthday to you right at midnight!
The night after your birthday
When the street extends into an avenue
With stickers of local bands everywhere

Dignity maintained as a missionary honor
And the deep wrinkles on the face of a materialist
Who criticizes the taste of coffee with milk so much?
But drink from the cup with a silver spoon on top

The lights don't turn on, they blink
In the color of his dark and lonely gaze

She was my imperfect carpe diem
The cure for acne at age sixteen and a half
It tickled me with roses that had thorns, scratching me
Marking your cell phone number on my skin

Our poems are now read backwards
His mouth tasted bittersweet from the alcohol
It's difficult to speak with my chest so tight
I end the conversation with an embarrassed smile

The lights don't turn on, they blink
Bringing me closer to her tight lips

She was the extra class on weekends
My national anthem played by nirvana
The morbidity of daylight saving time
But in my mind, the wet dream of the end of senior year

But now I don't want to see you even if you were painted gold
If I see you on the street, I'll turn the corner
I go back home and don't look at their faces
I'll delete your contact and vapo