chelle santos


for your 24th birthday


this year,
i was going to bake you a cake.
not pink whipped icing
on wimpy, fluffy chiffon,
but rather
majestic peaks of white frosting
burying dark dense fudgy devil's food.

a cake that sinks to the pit of your stomach
-like a disconsolate reality that sits there
uncomfortably.

-like the news of your early departure,
& the fact that i can never bake you a cake,

because you'll never have your 24th birthday.

Submitted: Monday, December 12, 2005
Edited: Tuesday, June 08, 2010
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