Fourth year

 Yesterday was ignored 

I did not want to look at lucky 15

I did not want to cry about it 

I did not want to feel that deep sadness

I did not want to be shredded with grief again

"On the 15th of November of the year 2022

A widow sat in her living room 

A wall away, there was a box

And in that box there were the ashes of the one

she loved and missed the most

She sat in her red couch and played with her black curls

And not once did she wonder what they looked like before 

And not once she thought about what it would've been like

To be anything other

 than what she already was."

On the last anniversary of his death, I did not feel as if it were the first. 

I didn't shatter over a grave scratching, howling,  begging, screaming his name

I didn't write about him

Maybe I wasn't sad enough

Or maybe I was already sad because of everything that life entails

That ought to be the luckiest 15

You have spent the same amount of years alive in my life as you did dead

We had four years together

And you have been gone for four years 

And somehow you still have every single one of my forevers.