Nineteen, I'm turning nineteen on Monday.
Eighteen, the birthday I knew I was in love with you.
Seventeen, we spent the night drinking tequila and skinny dipping.
Sixteen of my poems are about you.
Fifteen, the year I didn't see you in the shadow of someone else.
Fourteen, the day I left.
Thirteen, the times we've spoken in the past 6 months.
Twelve photos of us together.
Eleven more of you.
Ten, it's around this time I start to miss you.
Nine songs reminding me of you.
Eight notes humming your name.
Seven hundred and sixty
Six miles from you to me.
Five times I've cried in your car,
Four not knowing that there would be
Three words that I couldn't say, because you stayed
Two minutes, when I needed
One hour; alone with you.
Nineteen, I'm turning nineteen on Monday.
And for the first time in four years, you won't be there.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
Nineteen, I'm turning nineteen on Monday.
Eighteen, the birthday I knew I was in love with you.
Seventeen, we spent the night drinking tequila and skinny dipping.
Sixteen of my poems are about you.
Fifteen, the year I didn't see you in the shadow of someone else.
Fourteen, the day I left.
Thirteen, the times we've spoken in the past 6 months.
Twelve photos of us together.
Eleven more of you.
Ten, it's around this time I start to miss you.
Nine songs reminding me of you.
Eight notes humming your name.
Seven hundred and sixty
Six miles from you to me.
Five times I've cried in your car,
Four not knowing that there would be
Three words that I couldn't say, because you stayed
Two minutes, when I needed
One hour; alone with you.
Nineteen, I'm turning nineteen on Monday.
And for the first time in four years, you won't be there.
