Today is his birthday,
But I don't know what to say.

Other than the ordinary "happy birthday" that everyone else is going to say to him.
I can't help but think about last year when I opened my body to him as a gift on a whim.

With fiery eyes and my legs spread apart, mirroring my heart, as he nervously took my gift of unision.
Now that I think about it, it was stupid really, I should have gave him a cake for him to dig in.

But instead he quietly persisted and I let myself succumb.
I didn't think that the next year, I would feel so numb.

I want to give him the gift of my love but it's something lost in the fog in the distance of empty roads.
A garden once blooming, crushed by the cement he paved before I had implode.

It's selfish of me to make this all about myself.
It's just so hard to see all of his things on my art shelf.

I want to tell him I love him and I'm glad he stuck around for another year of his life.
As he whispers that he's so happy he met me and he wants me as his wife.

He's 20 now, but acts like a middleschooler.
Always playing games with the girl in the schoolyard, the hopless romantic middle school loser.

I always let myself fall this deep down.
My knees are so ****** and bruised and the skin of my palms are unbound.

I didn't think that I'd have to walk alone once again.
Afterall, he made the decision to let our love blast into oblivion.

I want to tell him I love and miss him and wish he can say those love-filled words to me once again.
But it isn't my birthday, so he's blowing out the candles, wishing he'll grow into a different man.

A foolish little boy, so careless with the loser's heart.
You don't realize how much you'll miss them until your heart tears apart.

I want to tell him so much more on his special day,
But my heart's voice is sewn together with thread, and all I can muster is a
"Happy Birthday."