The Goodbyed Girl

I never stopped liking Fridays after that,
even though I was certain that was to be the outcome of your passing,

or maybe you let go just then,
just so I could ease into all of this,

but here we are,
fourteen years further down the pike,

and I am worse for the wear,

sometimes,
at night,
very late at night,
or early in the morning,

I dream dreams of disappointment,
nightmares really,
that I let you down,

that you were the most selfless person in the world,
and even though I promised you the same in me,
even then,
none of this was enough,

none of it was big enough,
my adoration for you was matchless in its depth,

this was a robbery,
of that I was convinced

and sometimes,
most times,
on Fridays in December,
I find myself hoping for rain and cold,
so you know I have not forgotten you,

and other times,
most times,
I wish I could crawl down there and lay my self to sleep right next to you,
the way we did in your hospital room,

and you would always be the same number of years older than me,
and I would not be in the position I am now,
of catching up