Happy birthday girl, 
you made it, the big one-seven.
Congratulations,
one year closer to death.

Tell me, what'd you do?
Did you sit alone 
at the coffee shop
flicking cigarette butts at the sky?

Biting lips,
holding tears,
taking flight,
under wings of light?

Tell me, 
why is it that every year
you seem 
to care less?

Did you remember 
how things were before?
Did you remember 
how it was?

Did you wish you 
could go back?
Did you remember, two years ago
when he broke you?

When you spoke, too,
your voice turned brittle in the sun.
Your eyes burned like candles
wax dripping down your face.

And now you're hollow
and you follow 
the paths of stars 
with your hands.


(c) 2001 by (++)Laura(++). All Rights Reserved