If ever you forget me, try searching the folds of your skin the secret space that bends to form your elbows the nook underneath your collarbones because I'm almost certain that I've dropped a postcard or two with riddles that lead to your memory of me.
If you ever forget me, drift off to sleep. sleep deep. I'll be the one in your dream who is cheering the loudest in the crowd as you spin and do backflips on an elephant's trunk. I'll be the stone you trip on the one that causes you to fall down a mountain but I'll also be the eagle that saves you, and we'll soar. we'll soar.
Just in case you forget me, just play songs from the winter birdhouse and maybe the shaky voices and dusty guitars will help you remember. I told you once upon a December's eve that no one can sing they can only cry beautifully and the best singers are those who weep the loveliest so maybe a playlist filled with warm nutmeg kisses will help you remember.
If that still doesn't work, go back to every time you bled replay every tear, pause at every clenched fist every second you were on your knees but didn't see me standing beside you behind you whispering prayers trying to plant seeds you never heard me but the entire time my being was screaming I'm here
Only when and only if you forget me, I hope you'll at least try to close your eyes and see the treasure map I tattooed on your eyelids the one where x marks the spot where we cut paper figures by your favorite river next to the little meadow with tiny spring flowers but if that doesn't work either lie awake at night search your heart and if you aren't able to see my fingerprints on your veins or my toes peeping out from your heart's deepest chambers, it's okay. Because even if you forget me over and over and over again I'll always just be here wishing I never had to write a poem about someone you'll never forget when they've already forgotten you.