september 17th.

32 used to feel

so old to me.

and it used to scare

me to

think of

things like average

life expectancy.

the promise of that

number brought little

hope, because it

never read,

“forever.”

not for any of us.

but 77.9 years for

you just didn’t

seem like enough…

and it’s unreal to

think that you came up

47.4 years

short of that promise.

and to think…

middle-aged at 15?

three years after

you reached middle age,

that’s when i became me.

and almost

18 months after

we got fucked out

of that 47.4 years,

i am still

me, but a different

me, thanks to

you.

and right now…

on the day

you would have

been 32,

i’m here,

in your home,

for another date,

one that i

don’t want to

acknowledge, at least

not without

you.

we shouldn’t be

here,

in your bedroom,

in your parent’s house,

no.

not without

you.

but i am.

and i will be.

and madeline…

she will be,

and she is.

and we are.

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