we might still be ignoring each other,
(is that what we call this silence?)
by the time it comes around.
i might still love you
and you might still not know,
but despite this heartbreak
and shaky hands of mine,
i will still wish you happy birthday.

I could delete every trace of you
But there’s no way of erasing you

for

    once,

   i would

love

      to be

         the poem

and

     not

         the poet