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Jasper Lee Oct 24
Happy birthday.
Another year has gone by
And hopefully well spent.

I haven’t seen you this year,
Nor will I see you the next time I wish you a happy birthday.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face at all.
Or heard your voice,
Listened to your laugh,
Or seen your smile.

What happened?
What happened to us?
Why did we pull apart like we did?
I mean, I know why I walked away.
I walked away for my own sanity.

But you,
You don’t have an excuse.
No, you just walked out.
You just walked out and left me here.
Left me alone.
Left me broken and hurt and scared and sad.
Not knowing what in the hell to do with myself.
You left me here to bleed out.

But that was years ago, right?
So what?
The past is the past.
Doesn’t matter now.
Okay, I’ll accept that.

I’ll pick myself up and I’ll walk on.
But why is it that whenever I hear someone say my name
For a split second, I think it’s you?
Some days I’m disappointed when it’s not.
And other days
I hold my breath hoping it’s someone else.

Happy birthday.
Another year has gone by of you breaking promises.
Another year has gone by of you breaking hearts.
And treating the people that love you the most like ****.

Happy birthday.
Even though you never call me on mine.
Even though I remember your birthday better then I remember how to breathe in the morning.
No matter how much I try to forget your birthday I’ll never get it out of my head.
I’ll always remember the day you were born,
I mean, how could I forget the day that my worst nightmare was born.

Happy birthday
To the one that crushed me.

Happy birthday.
Happy birthday.
Happy birthday.
I repeat it as if it is a mantra to give me my sanity back.

You don’t have to answer my texts,
That’s fine.
I just want you to know that I’m wishing you a happy birthday.
And for every year that you have the same number
I will continue to wish you a happy birthday.

I you feel like responding, you will text back,
“Thanks.
How have you been?”

I will respond with,
“I’m doing fine,
How about you?”

And then you will go on a tirade for 20 or 30 minutes about how great your life is
Or how sad it is.
And then you’ll ask me,
“So, what've you been up to?”

And I’ll probably get one "I've been good" out before you say,
“Yeah, that’s nice.
It’s been good talking to you.
Bye.”

And I’ll sit there holding my phone in some state of shock.
I’ll try to replay the conversation.
Trying to replay every one of our conversations.
Trying to see where it went wrong.
Trying to figure out where the laughs and the “how are you”s and the “oh my gosh I missed you”s
Turned into “I can’t stand this conversation.”
“Make her shut up.”
“I have to go.”
Where did that switch happen?

Even though you treat me like **** and looking back you always have.
Even though you took the person I was and you pushed her away.
And you pushed her inside a box and stuck her in some damp closet where I couldn’t reach her.
Even though you turned me into someone I wasn’t.
Someone I didn’t want to be.
I will always wish you a happy birthday.
Cause even though you used me so much,
Part of me still hopes you love me.
July 9, 1998
Jasper Lee Mar 15
Dear Social Media,
Please stop telling me to follow him.
He and I haven’t spoken in years.
I don’t want to see what he’s doing.
I don’t want to know if he’s changed.
I don’t want to know if he’s sorry.
I don’t want to know if he’s grown out his hair,
Or see his smile,
Or hear his laugh.

Because I don’t want to miss him.

It took me so long to get him out of my heart.
I’ve finally healed, so why do you want to rip my stitches out and let me bleed again?

Stop telling me his name.
If you’re worried I’ve forgotten it, believe me I can’t.
No matter how much I try,
His name will always be ingrained in my mind.
He left it there like a kid carving their name into the trunk of a tree,
Without asking if I wanted to wear his brand,
Without caring how much it hurt.

I can’t forget him.
Because when I hold someone else’s hand, it feels like it’s his, and it hurts so much.

Sincerely,
Someone Who Just Wants To Move On
Jasper Lee Feb 2018
You were like a wild mustang.
You did what you wanted when you wanted.
You ran through open fields & leapt over fallen trees.
Nothing could stop you.

You wore your hair curly & fluffy.
You wore your glasses proudly.
To me, you were the definition of strength.
& I never had to ask Merriam or Webster about you
Because I already knew your spelling, meaning, country of origin, & how to use you in a sentence.

Then something happened,
I started confusing you for someone I didn't know.
You started wearing contacts saying you hated your glasses.
You started dressing for style instead of comfort saying you wished you looked better.

You started dating her,
& then the next girl & the next girl & the next.
Always saying she was the one.
Always calling when it was over.
& to say that she apparently wasn't the one.
Something I already knew because of the 2 a.m. phone calls on school nights.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls where you complained that she didn't appreciate all that you did for her.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls where you complained that she just didn't understand you.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls that weren't about me.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls that didn't ask how my day was.
That didn't ask how I was doing, how I was feeling.
All those 2 a.m. phone calls about what you were going through.
About how all your new friends didn’t like you as much as you needed them to,
So you tried to change.
& no matter how many times I told you not to,
You didn’t listen.
The reason for this, I assume,
Is that you never took the time to look in the mirror because you were always too busy looking for yourself in others.

Then one day, you decided to cut your hair,
Or rather, other people decided for you & you just went along with it.
You thought this new style that everyone was telling you to go for would make them like you more.
Maybe you’d be cooler if you got rid of the curls & the fluff.
Maybe that brown mess on top of your head needed to be gone.
I mean, it was getting long & going nowhere but up.
What could a little trim really hurt?

You came to school with your head buzzed.
Your curly, fluffy hair tucked away in whatever box you put the rest of yourself away in.
You see, when you cut your hair,
You cut off the only thing you had left that was a part of the real you.
The you that wasn’t made up of fake smiles & bad jokes.
The part of you that only cared about your family & friends.
The part of you that wasn’t plastic.
You had become nothing more than a shell of what once was strength & beauty.
I was disappointed.
But then I remembered,
Even the wildest of mustangs can be broken.
This is to you. You probably won't realize it. You probably won't see it. But I know that this poem is about you. I know what you did. How you changed. How you lied. I know this and that is the only thing I need to know. But that doesn't mean that I don't still hope that the old you comes back.
Jasper Lee Jan 2018
A home shouldn’t be cold with the heat running
A home shouldn’t have your body as the door mat
A home shouldn’t feel as if there is only one person holding it up to keep it from collapsing
A home should never be sad or lonely
I’m sorry if this is what you grew up thinking a home was
I’m sorry if this is what you grew up feeling
I’m sorry for the home that you had
I’m sorry for the misinformation & the wrong definition laid before you
I’m sorry for that

But a home should be warm even in the coldest of days
It should be happy
A home should be pillow forts & blankets
A home should be walking through the door & smiles are the first thing you see
A home is built with the “how are you” s
It is built with bricks of “how was your day”
Light switches of “do you need anything”
Furniture of “I love you”
That’s home

Not a singular person should be holding up the house
You shouldn’t even have to hold it up at all
A home doesn’t come crumbling down,
A temporary place might, but a home stays steady & pure
A home stays steady
A home

Stays
Jasper Lee Nov 2017
Tell me you love me

When I can’t look in the mirror,
Tell me I’m beautiful.
When I can’t sleep,
Tell me a story.
When I’m crying,
Tell me it’s all okay.
When they break my heart,
Tell me they didn’t deserve me.

When I realize that I love you,
Tell me it’s too late.
Tell me I lost my chance.
Tell me it’s over.
Because you’ve stood up for me so many times
It’s time you stood up for yourself.

So please,
Please,
Tell me you love me.
Just say it

— The End —