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Another Rotation, Another Year

Happy Birthday

By Colleen MillsteedPublished 2 months ago 2 min read
4
Image courtesy of Pixabay

The years have sped by,

Memories fading into the background,

Except on those special days,

When I remember you’re no longer around.

***

We destroyed our potential,

Our possibility of forever,

Something we promised wouldn’t happen,

Shooting towards our ending — no, never.

***

Within weeks of today,

All those years in the past,

We were foolish,

Convinced we’d last.

***

I’ve lost count of those wasted years,

Do you remember,

Probably not,

All I do remember, it was in December.

***

Two broken souls,

Doing more harm than good,

We were never really aware,

Where it was either stood.

***

Harsh words,

Too much to drink,

Yelling turning into violence,

To see the end rushing forward, snuffed out in a wink.

***

Nothing from then until years later,

A random apology at the beginning of the cold,

Shocked, taken by surprise,

I never did expect that, if the truth be told.

***

You remembered after all that time,

Whereas you’d slipped my mind for awhile,

Communicating in that text,

Was normally not your style.

***

How’s today going for you,

Did you celebrate it all alone,

Poker and a few too many to drink,

Passing into unconsciousness with a groan.

***

Work tomorrow, with a sore head,

Or has this gone back to being a daily occurrence,

Forgetfulness a side effect,

One drink turning to ten, a regular recurrence.

***

Never mind, it’s none of my business,

Just wanted to wish you a glorious day today,

In light of another year, another rotation,

Around the sun, my friend happy birthday.

If you liked my writing, please click on the small heart underneath, near my name. Or send me a tip and let me know you enjoyed it.

****

Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.

Originally posted on Medium

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About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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Comments (3)

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarran2 months ago

    It's especially really very sad when their birthday comes around. A very relatable poem ny friend

  • Cathy holmes2 months ago

    This is sad, but well said.

  • Denise E Lindquist2 months ago

    Nice!! Thank you💕

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