We grew up
Quickly
Wishing to be older
Wanting nothing more
Than freedom
16 meant driver's license
18 meant cigarettes
And 21 was left for liquor
For gambling
And finally calling yourself
A grown up

It was his birthday
A few weeks ago
The age
We spend our whole lives
Waiting to be
And he came so close
To being it

21
It has been
Half a year
Since his leaving
So abrupt in its presence
Death has a way
Of shaking you
Waking you up
Only to have you fall back asleep
Again
And forget about it
It's hard to remember someone is gone
When you don't see them
Everyday
Loss is funny like that

21
You look through the texts
On your phone
Years back
You didn't know him well
But you knew him
And past tense feels strange
Knowing these kinds of things
Are permanent

21
Your best friend
Introduced you
That night in September
Spent filling lungs with smoke
I think it was a high holiday
The four of you
Laughing over nothing
The irony of it all
Kills me

21
She loved him
Still does

21
Taking hits
Escalates
Into much more
One time
Is all it takes

21
It is his birthday
The first
Without him here
He can finally do
All of the things
We've been doing for years
In secret
In hushed voices
And in hiding from our parents
Except now it is legal
Now it is allowed
Now it is okay
But it is not okay

He is 21
And he is not here
To celebrate

He is 21
And his mother
Is pouring a glass of wine
Alone

He is 21
And his birthday wishes
Sound more like condolences
There are words of grief
Instead of cheers
His facebook
Is a collection of memories
And emotions
He will not be forgotten
We swear

21
We grew up
Wishing to be older
Wanting nothing more
Than freedom
Age may not liberation
But neither
Is death

21
Make sure
To have a drink
For him.

at the age of 21
i was finally
legal to drink
at the age of 21
i was finally
legal to gamble

yet

at the age of 21
i slashed
my wrists
at the age of 21
i tried playing
within traffic
at the age of 21
i was ready to
swallow all of my lexapro

at the age of 21
the monster came out
the memories flooded
my brain

after years and years
of keeping them hidden
beneath the cupboard
after years and years
of keeping them locked away
so that sunlight
would never ever
touch them

where they would
rot away
turn black
turn cold
where these memories
ate away at my skin
like leaches in the dark

i should have been free
instead
i tried ending it all

i just want to feel again

21,
21,
21,
we're playing a lucky game so
pick your sides.
21,
21,
21,
you're the lucky boy today so
enjoy the ride.
But tonic is so toxic
so tasteless
so bitter-trivial-faceless
when you have to swallow your pill
everyday at 8:30 PM,
sharp.
My liver ain't in the best of shape
my body ain't in the best of weights
my soul sure is dying fast
though nothing ever lasts.
21,
21,
21 more times--
just a number,
though nothing is just a number.
My blood is running poison,
a cut a running toxic tap.
My body is a chemical,
a bitter, vindictive compound.
21,
21,
21,
it all tastes so **** bitter,
all I can taste is bitter.

21 was his age when we first met
21 was the date when we sat back but our lips met
21 was his birthday date, when I brought him a bundle of chocolates
21 was his jersey number
21 was his flat number
21 was his phone number’s middle digits
21 was his lucky number

21 was my age when he left me broken
21 was the date when I saw him uniting his lips with my bestfriend
21 was the time when I cried of losing two most important people in my life
21 was the number of times I cried for him
21 was the day of the month when he turned me down in public rudely
21 was the number of things he returned to me
21 was my unlucky number

©anothergirlwithfantasies