an...

i love you

i watch my nieces and i think of what you were, once.
and of who loved you, once.
and your mother tells me how she prays for you,
how she wakes up in the middle of the night.
and i cant think beyond the mechanics of walking,
of one step in front of the other,
of arms and motion, and how even that,
even that,
is much too much much too much
sometimes.

i miss you. and i wish i could know if you were dead.
happy birthday, though,
if you're not.