Saturday, May 23, 2015


You would have turned twenty five this week.
You would have been in America, still.
I would have been here.
I would have written you a message.
I would have tried to make it heartfelt.
I would have cried, writing it.
You would have asked me to Skype.
And I would have been awkward. But agreeable.
I would have told you how much I loved you.
I would have told you how much I missed you.
I hope.

It was your birthday on Monday.
I spent the day here, fighting back the tears.
Thinking about you.
Thinking about what could have been.
I think about you. Every day. Every night.
I fight back the tears.
Thinking, why did someone so good, have to die so young?
Thinking, why didn't I tell you how much I cared?
While you were still here. When you could have been mine.

You're in my heart. You're in my head.
And I'm trying to let go.
And I'm trying.

1 comment:

AVY said...

I don't know if death makes life meaingful or meaningless. A little of both I guess.