Birthday

 

 

That day,

your birthday and the few hours

before felt like my birthday

our favorite day.

When you ate all 15

cookies I made

drank sparkling wine

and carried me

to bed.

Smoked your “last” cigarette

at midnight held me in your arms

until we both fell

asleep.

Woke up in my bed

so small, hands numb

from sleeping on them.

Drove to lunch the next day,

hand on your thigh

and parking lot pleasure.

Nine course dinner, gazing in your eyes

Manual drive slash stimulation.

One more time before you leave

“Here’s your final present, baby.”

 

I wanted to spend my birthday with you

playing love songs on the piano

you bought me too early

walking through rose bushes

in the park

we fought in in November.

Holding

you, my favorite

present, until we both fell asleep.

And we’d laugh in the morning

how it felt like your birthday

because you had so much fun.

We’d stay there all day

wrapped in my sheets

hands numb from sleeping

on them

lost all day

in my bed

so small

I had to sleep half on top of you.

 

But my birthday wish

was to sleep inside

of you.

Shrink myself to a cell and live

in your heart

But

you bought that piano

too soon.

We didn’t get to see the roses.

And I spent my birthday

alone

wrapped in my sheets

alone

hands numb from sleeping on them,

occupying half the bed to save

room for your ghost.

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