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And after that relationship,
I wrote a thousand beautiful, sad poems.
Not to win you back
but to understand how I ever lost myself.
It's hard to forget someone who gave me a thousand memories to hold on to.
I've turned toward the sun

and I've begun to heal, cracks

once oozing now sealing, but

no matter how much I reach up

and how much I grow, the scars

are always with me, and I

will never forget.
"With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow@With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about
today until tomorrow
"

lyric, Mr Tambourine Man,
Bob Dylan
<>

Rebel troubadour, always resrless, asking the obvious,
with answers readily apparent,
yet no one knows them out loud

Here we are,
two old Jews,
crossing paths at our shared six point star,
we aware, we know, that the
questions will likely be there tomorrow,'for they
have always there come the morn,

so we do not raise our voices anymore,
indeed,
the questions grow up best when asked softly softly,
and the answers,
blowing in the wind,
are clearest, sharpest obvious when
whispered,

So,
~forget about today till tomorrow,
until tomorrow comes no more~

And is this an only love poem?
To be sure,
Be sure.

For only love is the bridge between yesterday,
Today, and Tomorrow,
No matter what!
NiX Jul 6
and neither the moon nor sun
can comfort me;
one heard my stories about you,
and the other my prayers for you.
The rain could not escape my memory
that you liked the monsoon,
The winds only held gently the expectation
of ruffling your soft hair.
The stream mimicked your laughter
which was etched deeply in my heart.
The sand under my feet told me when it met you
and the salt in the ocean whispered to me that
you threw your wishes as promises,
but wouldn't tell me what those were;
something about secrecy.
The air during my late night walks
reminded me that you walked these paths,
The flowers gushed about your voice,
the trees your jokes;
and then everything
crumbled.
as my mind had to remind me that you died,
and your image I had to forget for my sake.
snatched away so quickly,
I hate that, I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
you live a life away from all this happily, while I mourn the death of a person you pretended to be; and to hate you means to hate who I loved and I cant bear that
I said that we were done, and that all ties between us had been severed.
Yet, my body betrays me, for I trace your heart in my sleep, as I cannot forget its shape...

-Rhia Clay
Zack Ripley Jun 2
I've noticed the older I get,
I worry less about my mortality
and more about the quality of my memory.
But then I had an epiphany:
maybe we weren't meant to have a good memory. Consider this: by your 30th birthday, you will have been alive for 10 thousand days. Would you want to remember it all?
Maybe it's OK that we can't remember.
Maybe it's OK if we forget.
Maybe it's not a reflection of your intelligence
if you can't recall the names and faces
of everyone you've ever met.
That's not to say memory loss isn't scary.
But if there's one thing you can hold on to:
even if you forget,
someone will remember for you.
Sandy May 30
What is beauty?
Which is pleasant to the eye
Which makes us forget who we are ,for a moment
Which makes us escape reality
Which is sublime
Which makes us feel closer to divine
Which makes our eyes bigger
Which gives us blissful tears
                                                        -Sandeep Kaushal
Random thoughts
Kaiden May 29
"I want to forget"
Stupid words said by a stupid child,
That deep down wanted to remember.

Now that I'm forgetting,
I try to put it into words,
So one day, when i forget,
They'll remember.
Let's be honest here, there's no "they". No one cares, no matter how much they pretend they do. This one is a draft from a month ago
Reece May 27
Letting go is just a way to cope,
With the truth that some things are just out of our control.
We can hope that things get better,
That it’s just some unpleasant weather,
But in the end, it’s best to just let it go.
No need to drown in “What ifs?”
A waste of mental resources.
Multitasking,
And balancing,
The grief,
While remembering,
What we had,
Seems like an eternity ago.
I’ll bury those times,
Beneath a tree,
And plant a rose.
In the end,
It feels freeing,
To just let it go.
Sometimes it's best...to just let it go.
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