Silk ribbons bind a frosted cake, each candle's flame, a heart's cold ache. The whispered songs, a phantom choir, ignite a soul's internal fire.
A tapestry of moments past, where joy and laughter could not last. The gilded cards, a cruel facade, concealing where true warmth has flawed.
The crystal glass, a lonely gleam, a silent toast, a broken dream. The velvet drapes, a somber hue, where solitude's dark shadows grew.
A whispered wish, a silent plea, for company, just once, for me. The night descends, a starless void, where birthday's hollow joy's destroyed.