May
A Poem
A few days into May it’s your birthday
I’m unsure as to whether to call you
or text you, or simply remain silent.
It's hard to picture you drunk and happy
with all your friends and family, as you
sing, dance and laugh,
while I contemplate whether to call or text.
I want to break the month's silence,
with a simple two words
I’m unsure as to whether type it and send it
while I wait for a response, but at the same time
I feel like there is no point.
In my dreams, we’re in bed again,
dreaming and sleeping away from our problems.
It was small talk, all written through black and white screens
played over and over again, in my head and on movie screens.
In May you’re eighteen and living a life without me,
I’ll be waiting here all blurry-eyed,
my hand stuck on my phone.
Debating and contemplating as to whether to call,
or text,
or whether to remain silent.
