I found the old photos curled at the seams

I found the old photos, curled at the seams,

faded snapshots of laughter and dreams.

A call from a friend, the echo of pain,

reminding me of that birthday, a flood of disdain.

The cake was too sweet, the candles ran dry,

while laughter turned brittle, and we tried not to cry.

A deflated balloon hung, lifeless and blue,

its color long gone, just like all of you.