There was no cake,
no candles slowly melting
over a noisy table.
There was no party,
no hollow music pretending happiness
until dawn.
But there was something stranger…
people remembering that I exist.
Messages arriving quietly
through glowing screens,
small words carrying warmth
from distant places.
No one came to see me.
No footsteps at my door,
no voices filling the room,
only silence sitting beside me
like an old familiar ghost.
Yet three gifts rested like small symbols
in the middle of a tired life,
like black flowers growing
through cracks in the concrete.
And even if the world remains cold,
even if the night still lives inside my eyes,
today I was not invisible.
My birthday arrived quietly,
dressed in black,
with hands full of shadows
and a heart barely beating softly…
but still here.
Still alive.
Still staring into the darkness
without lowering my head.
Because some people
do not celebrate with light.
They celebrate by surviving.
@newgirldark
-
Autor:
NewGirlDark (Seudónimo) (
Offline) - Publicado: 23 de mayo de 2026 a las 22:02
- Comentario del autor sobre el poema: No party, no cake — but I had something more important: people who remembered my existence in the middle of so much darkness. And sometimes, that is enough. 🖤
- Categoría: Gótico
- Lecturas: 12
- Usuarios favoritos de este poema: racsonando, Lualpri, zza, LOURDES TARRATS, ElidethAbreu
- En colecciones: Poems.
Offline)
Comentarios6
What matters in that someone remembers you
Greetings.
haha, sometimes, we are all we have got...
🌹
Birthdays are noisy celebrations for many, for others it's just a date on paper.
Greetings
Zza
Dear NewGirlDark:
There’s a quiet power in this opening—its restraint says more than celebration ever could. By denying the familiar markers of festivity, it creates an immediate sense of absence and emotional space. The simplicity of the lines makes the silence feel almost tangible, as if what’s missing is as present as what’s named.
Happy Birthday to you!
New Friend;
Your poem feels like a hand placed gently on a wound. It doesn’t hide the loneliness, but it also doesn’t collapse under it. There’s a quiet dignity in the way you describe a birthday without celebration, without noise, without company… and yet filled with those small, unexpected reminders that you still matter to people far away.
What moves me most is the strength beneath the sadness—the way you stand in the darkness without lowering your head, the way you turn survival itself into a form of celebration. It’s tender, raw, and deeply human.
Reading you makes one want to sit beside that silence, not to fix it, but simply to let you feel seen.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR, NOW AND ALWAYS.
FROM THE ISLAND OF MY EMBRACES, I SENT YOU A HUG: because:
POETS WE ARE INDEED....
Good 🙂
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