No Party

The calendar glared,

no colors, no plans,

just the empty clatter of plates

and a diner light buzzing overhead.

The waitress wiped the table,

her eyes sliding away—

a quiet wish for a quiet day.

A single candle flickered,

a tiny flame fighting the stale air,

lonely in its plastic prison.

No song, no calls,

just the weight of a day

that felt like everyone forgot

except the silence.