On this anniversary,
my motif betrays that day’s antithesis.
Another year gone,
and how funny it is to try
and imagine you as a grown-up.
I guess it’s funny
to image me as a grown-up, too.
I wonder if there is somewhere you went,
from where you imagine what I must be like now.
I wonder if I’m even somewhere,
as I imagine what you must be like now.
Here doesn’t feel like anywhere in particular.
It feels just like nowhere at all.
I have to admit,
I struggle to celebrate.
I want to come and see you.
I bet it’s peaceful there.
Every moment here is a test of will,
and I can’t make sense of why
things should be this way.
But if you have wishes wherever you are,
I know you wish for me to stay.
So, stay I will.
That is your gift.
Or is it mine?