Skies behind my trees turn pink

The same shade of my birthday cake ice cream

I could've mistaken today as my own birthday

As I rapidly reach highs and lows obtainable on birthdays

Carpet floor digs into my exposed legs

It reminds me of sleepovers who lived on carpets

Movies from my laptop screen mimics

The low lighting achieved only during sleepovers

My room is achingly silent

Except for the keyboard clacking under my fingertips

It's sounded like this for awhile

At least it feels like it