On Birthdays

I used to cherish the years I had accumulated

With every cycle I seemed to be
Getting somewhere

The years were a sign, the proof that I was not
Stagnant

And every one of them was welcomed with open hands and joyed upon

Nowadays
I deem no celebration necessary

For I am free to celebrate whenever suitable

Not having to be bound by any
Special occasion

A good feeling is reason enough to feast about

Instead of forcing the deed
On some peculiar time
Of some particular day

Every fucking year

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My year

A year has passed.

A year I owe to you alone
To you I owe the sun that shone
To you — the force that made me stand whilst prone
To you — the countless hours on the telephone
To you — the things that thrilled me to the bone
To you — ‘cause you’re the only one
Who made this year this fun

Now you have passed.

But I will still remember you
And all the things that we’ve been through
My dear

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