This is the one day I allow myself to believe that you will be there,
Unlike the other 364 days in the year.
I think this is because we are made to believe,
Ever since we are old enough to grasp the concept,
That this is the one day that is ours,
The one day we get to believe belongs to us.
So every year I fool myself into thinking
That you owe me something,
On this day I call my own.
And every year, you show me how utterly naive I am to still believe in something so impossible
I will wake and hope, I will go through the day wondering,
And I will go to bed disappointed by you all over again
and yet, this is the one day I allow myself to believe that you will be there