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birthdays
April 27, 2021
It happens every year, and every year is just as bad.
I cry and I mourn the passing of time.
I reflect on the person I used to be and dream of the person I wish to be.
All I wanted was your favorite book. To be given a piece of yourself so I could have part of you with me always.
Never has that happened and never will it happen.
My birthday happens every year, and every year is just as lonely.
© Carolyn K., White Plains, NY
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It's almost my birthday and I'm left thinking of the one I can't get myself: a piece of someone else