the art of losing someone and not dying

it’s been a year.

all four seasons have gone by.
there was the summer, the sultry summer: and then rainy days, such as the one when you went away.
and now,
it’s been a year.

your birthday happened without you. you should’ve turned 22, but you didn’t.
you should’ve been a part of our secret santa;
you should’ve saluted the new year.
you should’ve been there when I was far,
and you should’ve been there when I was near.
it’s been a year.

another year is approaching:
another year draws near.
a year in which I’ll become older
older than I am today
and older than you’ll ever be.
it’s been a year.

isn’t it long enough to play hide and seek?
isn’t it long enough for us to miss you and want you here; isn’t that clear?

all prayers are foolish
and in vain is every tear
but I miss you so badly because
it’s been a year

raise from your wooden bed!
leave behind your mortal body
and reappear!
for it’s been a year.

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