that’s two birthdays now that I never got to celebrate with you. I still mailed you a present this year, and i hope you know that i mean well. perhaps what I’ve done is selfish – I am aware that even though I want the best for you, the gift, the letter, are also meant to remind you of my existence, everything that you’ve tried so hard to delete, to erase, to forget. I don’t want to be forgotten. I’m a wallpaper at the best of times, and I don’t mind if others forget me, forget about me – you can’t be one of them, not you, whom I have loved so hard.
pathetic, i know. nothing that an ex wants to read, particularly on his birthday.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
-from The Letter
by Amy Lowell-