The Day Before My Birthday

The day before my birthday,

a great sink hole for me.

It has to be because

since I was three,

we shared our birthdays

as a single entity.

Two halves of the same cake,

so to speak.

The day before my birthday

feels so hollowed out, 

if it were a heart, 

the center would be carved away,

leaving only a facsimile,

a shell,

the exterior of a day,

filled with nothing

so much as absence.

Though so many years

have fallen away

since our last birthday

the day is newly bruised

by your absence.

No grab bag of childhood games,

no rescued wig of my seventeen year old

hair remains.

No marbles for you

or pick up sticks, 

or corny jokes that grandpa knew.

Just a long flat line

my mind draws

across an imaginary screen

and although I know

you'd never want me to dwell

on missing you,

to day I do, I vividly do.