Writer of Stories.

Writer of Stories.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

for a friend.

Today is your birthday.
It will always be your birthday.
Whether you're here or there, it's still the same.
It's still your day.

I tend to forget a lot.
It's not that I don't care.
It's that it still feels like a bad dream.
Like something that happens in movies and television,
but not to us.
Not in this life.
It does though.
Every day.
And it hurts just the same.
Whenever I think about something you'd enjoy -
consider sharing something or asking your opinion -
that's when it comes back,
and it's worse than before.

I can only think about the many things you've missed.
All of the good and terrible things that have happened since you disappeared.
I wonder what you'd think of it all.
Plenty of it would have deserved your smile.
Plenty of it could have broken your heart.
But you weren't here to see it.
And that is the greatest disappointment of all.

I hate to think that you've been missing everything.
But maybe you haven't.
Maybe you've seen it, wherever you are.
Is it beautiful there?

I'm asking for a friend.

Happy Birthday, Laura-Lisa.

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