candles lit
songs sung
sweets eaten
                               transmuted
                                           by time
                                                            ­       weak flames
                                                          ­             old music
                                                                ­      pale sugar.
                    
                   the first celebration of a hollow year

                                               dear,

                            somehow I hope you know
                        we remembered your birthday
                                  here on earth today

where are you
my star-brushed siblings
with weepy hearts and teardrop eyes
who feel the earth with their heels and souls
will I find you walk among those kindred strangers
or will tired feet find you farther gone and not yet home

I drink red wine now
by myself
but obviously not in the pathetic, lonely sort of way
or in the I-have-a-problem way,
I promise!
I put it in a glass and everything!
Just in the unwinding way
Sometimes... late at night...
It's nice
Sometimes... it helps me write...
God-awful poems  
you know, in the why-can't-I-forget-you way
but
I only drink in the evening hours
and the days aren't so bad
and
every day I fall more in love with myself
honestly, I do.
I do!
It's just a shame that doesn't make me fall out of love with you

And I feel like my poems are never long enough
even when my words are
dancing in my head
and then I get sleepy before they unlock
but that could be the fermented grapes
or the clock
as I continually realize
the knock on the door won't be you
anymore

so there's just me
...
and the wine
and the whining
and resigning  
and the pining
for what was never mine