1,
you were already 16,
2,
but I was finally turning 15,

3,
you knew I didn't celebrate my birthday,
4,
but you never ask why.

5,
I had a birthday that coexisted around the time,
of valentines.
6,
We we're unable to see each other the week on valentines,
but the week after on my birthday we could.

7,
you faced timed me,
all week,
while working on my gift,
but never showed me your hands,
so I never saw the present.

8.
finally it was my horrible birthday,
a day full of crying at home,
but finally I was here at your house to hand you,
my pay check,
because I really wanted you to get your permit.
I knew how much you wanted it.
so I had 60$ for you.

9.
you came out,
saw me and picked me up and kissed me,
hugged me like a distant relative who was way to friendly would,
and like them,
we both acted in not wanting to let go,

10.
We went inside your house,
and sat on your tiny brown couch,
and your mom was so happy to take pictures,
and I gave you my gift,

11.
you opened it,
and you almost cried,
and I did see the tear in the corner of your eye,
then you left like the sun leaves the day to fetch mine,

12.
your mom got to talk to me,
and was so very happy,
she even made me a cake,
like one you would of seen at a wedding,
I couldn't of said thanks enough.

13.
you came back,
and you gave me a tiny little box,
and a note,

14.
you opened the box first,
and told me to read the note while he put my gift on me,

15.
my note said,
"baby you are my valentine,
and violets and roses combined,
will never be a more beautiful design.

Speaking of designing,
I made you this necklace and its shining,
just like your eyes,

but I cant rhyme,
so I hope you know this was more then for,
being my valentine one special day of the year,
its for everyday,
even your birthday,
so enjoy it more.

love,
the necklace maker"

and everytime,
I wore it,
I was happy,
because I thought of him,

*15

The first time I wrote about you, I thought you would think it was romantic, I thought you would appreciate all the time I thought of you.
The second, I realized you weren't here for romance or flowers or kisses on the porch.
The third, I wished you were.
The forth, I settled with being an object of your torture, and sometimes play.
The fifth, I decided I was nothing with or without you.
The sixth time I wrote about you it was about the **** I told everyone else was the first time we had ***.
The seventh, I pretended that my broken rib didn't stab into my lung when I coughed up the tar that filled my lungs, I picked up habits that could never hurt me more than you.
The eighth time was when you decided I was worth your time again.
The ninth was the first time I said I loved you, and it felt like I hated you.
The tenth, I was territorial, I wanted to be the only one you abused.
The eleventh, I played with the idea of you loving me, the key word was played.
The twelfth time I wrote about you, I pretended this was a normal high school crush, not the connection to you sealed with the reddened amber keeping you close to me.

The thirteenth. The thirteenth time I had a dream where I starved you, like my fruitful forgiveness of your sins was the very nectar that fed your body, and I starved you.

The fourteenth you were kind. The only time you were ever kind to me was the fourteenth. This span of time was when I fell back in love with the man who made me forget what it even was, and felt guilt about the thirteenth.

The fifteenth. The fifteenth time I wrote about you was on Easter. I was reborn into a life of loneliness and constantly trying to get you back.
Age Fifteen was when you first hit me but sometimes I still consider fifteen my lucky number.

I am not lonely
My thoughts go everywhere that I do
Always watching over me
Wanting me to watch them, constantly

They want attention
and more
I give it to them subconsciously
Without putting up a fight
of any sort

I'm easy, flexible...
You can count on me
Even if the favour is never returned

15, 15, 15...
I was always lonely
Searching for the missing part of myself

I always suspected that it would be a boy
or girl
That filled the void...
Not this
This is not love
Yet

But I can say that I've stopped searching
And maybe it is from lack of motivation
From depression
Or lack of depression?
But I feel less afraid of being alone
Less afraid of being me

I'm becoming happier with myself
I'm changing, changing all the time
And feeling less empty with each day

Is it because of this?
Well I'm not all that sure
Yet
But I suspect it

For I haven't even considered romantic attraction
in some time
And maybe loneliness was what stirred
My need for intimacy before
And maybe now I'm not so lonely
Maybe now I'm finding peace

Within my own intimate thoughts
Within myself
Within this...
15?
15... I think I love you.
**I do.

I realized when I'm drifting to sleep
You are the majority of my last thoughts