I quit counting hours
when I got to midnight.
I gave up all hope
like you.
I thought it'd be
simple.
You made it look
so easy.

Easy.

The last adjective
I'd ever use.
I thought that
being your baby,
your youngest daughter,
would mean something.
But, we're all wrong sometimes, right?

Right.

Turns out, I was wrong.
After you left mom,
you didn't care.
Never took that look back.
No desperate glances upon the past.

The past.

Forget and move on, right?
At least that's what you
pretended to do.
"Oh honey, I forgot. Happy birthday."

I guess we still share
a little bit of each other.
I mean, we both like to forget one another.
The only difference is that
I'm happy forgetting you.