Where are you? I'm so lonely.

I was lonely for so long, laying here.
Then you came along after many a year.
My birthday each time, you did celebrate.
Flowers and cognac, your gift is great.

But I counted the days in anticipation.
And this year, you missed the celebration.
Have I lost you, my friend?
Am I again alone until the end?

Is turning 201 just too old for you?
That would be shallow, and cold too.
I'm Edgar Allan Poe, please don't leave me.
Then again, I've always been in agony.