the day of your birthday is gone
and i survived it, for another year
and with every passing year
it gets harder and harder
to breathe
on that day in February
not mine, but yours
(i can only write my pain, and my fingers are already dripping with blood)
YOU ARE READING
Poem/s
Poetrypoems, maybe. *** yes, i can't sleep still. yes, i miss her still. yes, i think my heartbreak will end me soon.
