It would be a joke
to think I could ever forget
what this day is.

This will always be
your day.

For the rest of my life, I will
fight hard daily
not to miss you, but today
I will. Today you will
flood my mind as the rain
outside my window 
engulfs the worms. 

Today I will
wallow in the regret
I have been bottling
in jars and collecting in my closet.
I will tilt my head back and
empty
every single one until 
I am drunk with self-hatred, 
projecting black-and-white images
of you on the inside of my forehead
when I close my eyes.  

Today I will
finally take the unopened gift
sitting on top of the fridge
I bought for your birthday 
last year and
throw it away
alongside the wilted
beets
I never cooked.  

I see you sitting in
the grass blowing
out the candles and I hope
I am a psychic; but how
contradictory it is 
to wish 
your loved ones well and 
hope they are missing you, 
too.