I miss you.
Our long talks at night,
Our long walks in the park,
Your natural radiance in the moon's light.
How you'd adorably tap your brow, deep in thought;
Your ritualistic yawning and stretching every time you awoke;
Your cute fibs about cooking whenever food's storebought;
Your precious pouting when you're broke.
I pray you'll know,
I did not forget.
I just could not find bring myself to write
About a date that's thus sad.
Even a decade on,
After you've gone,
I still can't say we're done
I'm still your Chandler and you'll always be my Mon.
Yes, this is somewhat late,
But I hope you'll accept it anyway.
Though I'm not there to bring you on an actual date,
I wish you a happy birthday.
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