your footsteps lead
to the front of my grave
lemon flan boxed neatly ribboned in hand
way too yellow
and way too bright
and way too sweet
for such a sad sad girl like me
for such a bad bad girl like me
and you wished me happy birthday
snuffing out candles
that were not there
for i had died
three days before seventeen
ah yes
what a pitiful little girl
who pulled the trigger too young
what a pitiful little girl
who should have been seventeen
who is seventeen
but not quite
because she's not a sweet little girl of seventeen summers
she's
just
d e a d
happy birthday
happy birthday
happy birthday to me
YOU ARE READING
Elizabeth ✓
Poetry(previously "what we used to be") In which a girl loved a boy so much she forgot to love herself. © 2017 stardustingstudio, all rights reserved (trigger warning) [book one in the "girls of the stars" series]
