Dear... Romeo
You would have been twenty-eight today.
It's been hours since the clock struck midnight, and eight years since you passed.
I'm in love. I wish I could tell you that.
I wish I could sit with you, pour you a glass of wine, watch as you held your husband's hand and tell you all about this man I have fallen for.
He is so unlike you I can't help but laugh. Giggle at the prospect of your disappointment that I didn't end up with a girl.
I know if you had been alive when I came timidly out of the closet at twenty-three you would have been there with streamers and a "Told you it would have never worked between us!"
I wish we could share that joke.
All my jokes are silent now, the ones that we used to share. We were awful for each other, but you were the best first love I could have ever asked for.
I'm still mad that petty teenage anger kept me away from being your best friend. I wish I could fill in the remaining years we had between us with more laughter than tears.
Tears are all I have left now. Why is it that I always knew I'd cry over you? I always told you that.
There’s so much that I wish for now.
The chance to go to your wedding, he's still in love with you, do you know that?
Forcing myself to go to that godforsaken reunion just to tease you about how we both aren't millionaires yet like we always "planned" to be in ten years after graduation.
I'd want to tell you that I finally got to move to that place I loved so much, the place you promised you'd always write music about.
I'm here now. The music is beautiful.
I will always love you.
You will be with me.