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the first day of the fourth month of every year
the day that everyone looks for a way to sneer
the day that's filled with tricks, fools and games
while in my head is no joke, only a simple name
the name of the baby boy born on that April Fool's Day.

the first day of the eleventh month of every year
the day that seems to bring only me fear
the day when the wind blows leaves with which children play
while i visit the boy who was too soon taken to his grave
the April baby taken on that cold November day.
what the hell
happened to
everything?
i locked myself
in this
beautiful
crystal clear
glass box
that was
you.
and i was living
happily.
we were living
happily.
i didn't take
what i didn't need
from you.
and you didn't take
what you didn't need
from me.
we
were in this
equilibrium.
life was good.
easy.
happy.
safe.
but now,
the box is filling
with smoke.
you are
SUFFOCATING
ME.
and i can't
get out.
i'm pounding
on the glass.
it won't crack.
i can't breathe.
you're watching me
DROWN.
with that disgusted
disappointed face.
i'm begging you
if you release me
i'll go.
i'll disappear.
i don't want to
but if you don't want
me.
then have mercy.
i'll walk away.
just please please please
help me breathe
or shatter the glass
before you're left
with another
broken
heart.
those painful days
when your eyes
don't
meet mine
are the days
when i
can look at
you
and savor your
blonde-hair
blue-eye
beauty
to prepare for
when those
painful days
are no longer
a
rare
occasion.
i wish i knew why
why, why, why
you shut me out
when the sun rises
and the shadows
of the night
melt away in
the morning light.
why do i
hurt
seeing that smile
on your face
the happiness
in your eyes
and the laughter
in your voice?
it's the most
bittersweet
pain.
all because of
my awareness
that your mesmerizing
display of joy
has been occurring
so much more often
now that i've
unwillingly
faded
away.
i can tell you
one thing.
i do not enjoy
falling asleep
alone
with no one there
to acknowledge my
unconsciousness
and to wish me
well
on my journey
into the land
of dreams
i always wonder
whether or not
in the depths of
night,
you lie awake
with your
childhood quilts
wrapped around your
fragile frame
clutching your
stuffed animal
thinking about all
those nights spent
with my voice
on the line,
carrying you off
into the safety
of your most
beautiful
dreams.
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