I'll never forget that day

three years ago

when I heard you say,

"I only have three years left!"

It feels like forever ago

when I picked up the fear

of people touching my neck

(from you);

when we shared a room

and painted it lavender

(I've painted it since);

when I burrowed your makeup

(and never gave it back).

It's been so long

since we argued

and fought

and acted our age

(that I won't miss).

But I'll remember us

fawning over shoes

and you buying them for me

as a birthday present

two months early.

I wear them almost every day.

...I wore them

on my first 'date';

the one mum made you come to.

I whispered in your ear

as much

as I whispered in his.

The clock is

(and always has been)



has made fools of us

and we're left

with mere weeks

before we bid

our bittersweet goodbyes

as we send you off

for a better future,

counting the days

until your return.

I know you'll be happy,

and I know we'll be proud,

but I can't help

but miss you.