it has been
eleven of
your birthdays
in which
we have not
spoken at all

part of me
that i could
just forget
the date
strike it from
my mental

but something
always seems
to find a way
to remind me

between dad
and you
might as well
having done
the same
it is less
this orphaned
and just

one of these
forced remembrances
i imagine
you will be
actually gone
and i wonder
when i stare
at the ceiling
in the middle
of the night
if either of us
will regret
the way
an already mishandled
broken bond
was left ignored
thought of once
a year on
your birthday

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