Happy Birthday Connie
I slowly open my eyes and feel the pain (in my eyelids)
I can’t move my hands;
I’ve been paralyzed all over.
I saw my face on the door’s reflection,
Bruised and disfigured.
this is what love can do,
this love surely kills.
I can feel a pang of pain in my chest
created by the deadly stab of his birthday gift.
All I can remember are the last words he said,
before that sharp knife stabbed me deep
and my blood splattered on floor.
“Happy Birthday Connie, Rest in peace”
I can see his blur figure jump off from my balcony.
this will be my last birthday gift.
for there will be no more birthdays to come.
Author notes
Written February 12th, 2006
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WOW! This is a terrifying poem. I certainly hope this didn't really happen. Did it? If it did, I am so very sorry my friend. If it didn'r, you have a brilliant imagination. Great Write, sweety
Richard
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