24 hours in 1 day; January 24.
That was the mnemonic I used to remember your birthday.
Ironically enough,
you cried when you told me
while I was on a strange, jovial high.
The conversation was speckled
with laughter and disappointment yet
I'll honestly tell you that conversation
was the best we've probably had in a while.
You asked me why I wasn't upset or angry.
I told you I probably
suffered from 'delayed reaction syndrome'
and I'll probably cry later
when everything hits me.
The first time I cried
was when I examined my body
and realized your love bite was no longer there.
I suppose that was when
it truly hit me I had lost you.
I cried in several intervals-
horrid, interrupted, breaks of unfulfilled cries.
It was at two in the morn',
then five when I had to pee,
ten when I thought of you again
and one in the afternoon
when I told myself to just let go.
As I sat and cried,
I thought of how pathetic I looked
and laughed to myself
as I imagined telling you this.
Then I stopped laughing.
I turned to the pianoforte for solace,
thinking perhaps the dancing keys
would soothe me.
I only managed four chords
before breaking down.
I told myself out loud to stop crying.
Eventually, I just let myself
wallow and cry
because I knew I needed to to heal.
I asked you if you were happy
and after the second ask,
you said you were.
You asked me in frustration
why I didn't hate you.
I'm still trying
to figure that out myself.
It amazes me on how
I harbour no negative feelings
towards you.
I hope it stays this way.
You asked 'Are you okay?'
and then you answered
'No, of course
you're not okay,
what a stupid question'
and then you said
'I'm so sorry' and
ended it with my name.
I replied 'It's alright'
and then you said
'No, it isn't'
and the cycle repeated itself.
You said I would have more time
to focus on my assignments now
and that I wouldn't have to look
at the awful stickers that
accompanied your messages.
Somehow, it didn't make me feel any better.
I told you to take care of her,
to be chivalric and make sure
she walked on the inside of the road
and to hold her hand for reassurance-
just like you used to do for me.
As I got out of the car,
I wished you a happy life.
But I genuinely mean it,
I do.
-Two days later; January 28.
