Happy Birthday 

I often wonder
what you remember,
which moments you relive
when you think of us,
which stills stayed
all this time.

Today, I remembered the last day.

The drive near the ocean,
windows down,
my arm pressing back
against the wind
while guitar music
floated out of the speakers.

It was that one song,
the one that played today
while I drove through the sun,
my arm surfing on the wind,

that brought me to you
and that day,
the last day,

where the sky was
impossibly blue
and the music played
and you loved me.

Today,
I missed you,
remembered you,
and wondered
if you’re happy
and if I’ll ever
be happy
without you.

***

Today is your birthday, and I’ve written to you every year on this day. I wonder what you’re doing and if your day is full and satisfying. My birthdays never are. They are lonely and melancholy, but I hope you found some joy today. I wrote you a letter, a real letter, and I’ve been carrying it around for a few weeks, wondering if I should send it. It’s been four years since you decided to disappear completely from my world, four years since you blocked me, told me it was better to forget than to continue in this agony, but I’m still in it, still broken, still needing one more conversation to ask you all the things I forgot to ask. The letter asks for closure even though I know I will never stop loving you. And I know the letter won’t matter. I know it will cause you to self-destruct again. I know it’s selfish because you’ve tried to let me go. I wonder how successful you’ve been. I know you won’t respond. You never do. You never will. It’s a lost cause and so am I, but I love you all the same. Happy birthday, Johnny. I miss you. I always will.

~E 

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