i’ve always been a selfish kid

my birthday, my cake, my dress

at least if i don’t have it the best— it’s only mine to grief

my day, my presents, my age

i do not want to share an age to be cherished

with someone who will not

i vowed to turn your tables on birthdays;

you made me hate mine

everyone i’ve lost and have lost me— came back

every each one of them

but not you

strangers wishes me the constellations 

but we’re not strangers 

i refuse to believe so

i’m the narcissist but only you can make my existence all about your absence 

only us knows how to complicate fate

we’ll both be 17 for a month

we’ll relate to each other astronomically till you out grow this age

i’m still so hopeful 

our possibility is a mirage in desert heat;

we swore it’s there