happy birthday

22 3 0
                                    

I sat on my roof top,
hugging my knees,
as my wild curls danced to the rhythm of the breeze.
I looked up at the vast sky
as the clouds turned into little puffs of smoke.

That's when a thought struck my mind,
'It's going to be his birthday soon.'
And I hated it.
I hated that I still remember.
I remember he'd told me how he never celebrated his birthday,
and how I'd felt so bad for him.
And man, I would do anything to make that day special for him,
to make his realize how special he was to me.
I remember how I'd made this tiny envelope
that was so little, he had to struggle to retrieve the letter from inside.
Although it wasn't anything special,
I remember how his face lit up on seeing
my attempt to draw 'Joy' and the two red balloons,
with a 'Happy birthday' written below it.
It was simple, yet it made him smile.
I remember the way he whispered a, "thank you," in my ear.

And now as I sit by myself,
I can't help but wonder,
'would he still have that letter with him?
would he have preserved it?'
Although he has hurt me,
I still care about him.
And I can't stop myself from thinking that this year,
his birthday would be going back to the way it was before I came into his life.
Perhaps he would miss me too?
Perhaps he would just read the letter once again as he eats his single slice of cake while watching BoJack Horseman?
Perhaps he would wish for me to be there by his side?
Or maybe he would have just thrown my shitty letter away and would watch Fifty Shades of Grey with her.

Poems about LoveWhere stories live. Discover now