37 is like

yeah, i borrowed this from the internet

Thirty-seven is like thirty-six. Still nine months. Still want time to stand still. Still can’t believe this much time has passed. Still in disbelief that He is gone. Still wearing my necklace. Still shedding random tears. Still telling Him I love Him before I go to sleep. Still comparing this summer to last. Still can’t get it back. Still surrounded by Chevy Cruzes on the roads. Still passed by speed demon Mustangs on the highways. Still looking for another job. Still fucking old lover. Still waiting for old lover to ask me something about Him. Still touching His swim trunks. Still have the candles from the vigil on my dresser. Still avoiding the road that leads to where He used to work. Still uncomfortable yet captured by looking at pictures of Him. Still wondering if I could have changed the outcome. Still wishing that if there is another life, or if there is an after death, that We meet again. 37 is like…the same.