*I wrote this for a long ago ex-boyfriend. Well, it seems so long ago. I found it scrawled on a tattered piece of notebook paper in the old apartment.


It appears I've sent this parcel to myself. My own penmanship staring back at me from the manila envelope, cool to the touch.

But you sent it.

I self-addressed weeks ago, because I suspected you wanted to forget my name, where I live, what we had.

Still, you placed that piece of cardboard in there. It was the one accessory not included and designed to keep the pictures you didn't want from bending.

That means something to me.

Though you threatened to throw it all away, claimed you didn't care, you know it was beautiful and special and too important to be carelessly warped. Even as you tried your hardest to lose it.