Year 4, Day 2,540

As I sit here, in this shaky rickshaw 

with a mask that hides tears glistening against the traffic lights 

a routine developed carefully and perfected in the last almost 4 years 

( almost I say, since we're still 8 hours away from your 4 year death anniversary)

as I sit here listening to a playlist about growing up,

I think - It would be nice if someone called right now

In a muffled voice I'd say - hi 

You'd say - hey, are you okay? 

no no, you just caught me at a bad time 

should I call back later? 

its nice to hear someones voice right now, 

Reality interjects the people in my head, gosh how can someone read my mind? how could they call if they didn't even know why my heart weighs heavy tonight ?

...

were you thinking the same, as your heart gave away ?

oh how nice it would be if someone called me right now, if they could feel the pain radiate in my chest? 

how I would get a chance to ask for help 

I had a feeling all day that day, four years ago,

yet I didn't call

I wish i had

but I dont think about the maybe that follows this wishful thinking anymore 

maybe that's what the passage of time means 

it doesn't heal, though it reveals 

that I could not have read your mind and called

That you'd still not be here 

That you still aren't