Last night I dreamt of you when sleep would not come easily
I dreamt of you laying beside me, your hands holding my hips and your chest resting strongly behind my back
    -your breath on my neck as it slows,    
dipping into a sleepy rhythm to match mine
I tried harder than ever to remember the peace you give me when we lay side by side
   -the happiness that pulls my lips into a wide smile
And the quickened beating of my heart when you touch me
this morning I willed myself to forget my thoughts of you,
knowing that you would return that night, when I dream of you once again
I

feel pleasant to spell your name,
hear echoes of your voice,
recall all bygone time,
can’t silence my hope,
can’t move ahead,
can’t be the same,
can’t forget.

Why, can't we,
dream the same?
Genre: Love
Theme: “Forget”, what she said. When everything matter.
Note: Repeat the Title "what if " followed by "I" in each lines below "I", except the last two, then it makes sense.
Never I forget
what is precious than air

Never I forget
what is close to my heart

And, the last words
Hallucinates inside my head

“Forget me”,
What, she said.
Genre: Love
Theme: Then, nothing matters.
I returned back to the same home I used to know,
Oh boy, it feels familiar but I'm not so sure if it's good thing.
My first few steps back inside I heard some creaks on the floor in a silent room filled with dust on some brand new furniture
I mean, how is that even possible?
I take a few steps forward as the door behind me closes..
"is this the right choice?"
Pictures on the frames take so little amount of space in the house but somehow they constantly remind me of the past..
Of what this house used to be.
So I tore them off.
I tore them all off the walls so that all you can see is the clear empty walls, looking cleaner and more innocent with a hole where the nail used to be.
I'm not sure if it even looks better.
But I shoved the frames in a box, beneath my bed..
So why is it every time I take a stroll in the house it smells the same, and every time I sleep at night, I feel something hiding under my bed..
I mean, let's be more direct.
You were my home.
But I don't know who you even are anymore...
Cause every time I want to smile, I hear the picture frames knocking on my door, telling me I shouldn't.
Every time I think of coming home, I stop by every store just to make sure I have all the different frames so I can hide that nasty hole on the wall that the nail left behind..
But every time I did that, I couldn't tell if I was redesigning my home or lying to myself.
Tell me, what makes this one so different?
Is it a even a second chance.. or the seventh chance?
The ghosts of you don't creep behind me, it's the knives on my back and I can't tell..
Tell me, are they still there?
Or am I reminiscing about the past, feeling on the scars that I can't see, hoping one day I'm able to study every curve and every mark of where I went wrong that caused me to carry them for the rest of my life..
I mean tell me, because if I can't trace my steps back to the time I've twisted the door knob and walked right in without studying the room or listening to these same empty walls.. would I still be alive?
Or would you have killed me with the same knives that's already deeply rooted into my spine..
you say you love me but it sounds the same.
Fuck! That goddamn knocking is getting louder, it won't leave me alone.
Sometimes, we don't learn our lessons.
Labeled as indecisive
Wish-washy
Whatever you’d like to call it
If I’m one thing for sure it’s honest
So I won’t sit here and call you a liar
Just remember
As there is with everything
There’s a lot more involved
Complicating it all

A double-edged sword disguised
as a bayonet
It’s so damn easy for me to forgive
and forget
Maybe if I carve my adjectives
Into the very walls that keep you safe
You will finally see me
Since each and every one of you
Seems to have forgotten
Who the fuck I am
Perhaps then
You will pass me by
With lips sewn shut
And keep your eyes down
Like good boys
You've gotten me
Angry
Vengeful
Vain
Viscious
So paint that on the inside
Of your glass fucking houses
And use it for target practice
Just know
If I hear one more word from your lips
I'll cut out your vocal cords
And use them to string my
Holy Lyre
To play you sweet songs
About beautiful golden silence
Then perhaps you will learn
That I am not one to be
Whispered about
Maybe you will remember
Who the fuck you're standing before
I haven't changed
You've just forgotten
A humble word, “Y-o-u”

I forget to remember at 11th hour
I remember to forget at 11th hour
Genre:Haiku
Theme: Then, nothing matters.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
*This is a poem to go with a song I am writing "Don't Forget Me."

It's hard to understand
How people tend to grow apart...
Here is the race
I haven't even reached the start...

She raced away from me
He beat me to the punch....
He somehow managed  to earn the hand
of the one I care for
to share his lunch...


Don't Forget About me..
The one who saw with clear eyes

The soul, inside of you, that silently cries

For someone real and better
Something, in me, that you somehow failed to see
So, in memory....
Don't Forget Me.

I tried so hard to earn your attention
Men tend to hide their tears with a veil...
Such is the tragedy of energy of Male Pride...

Inside the mirror...In critique I sometimes hide
The man with the plan
Sometimes hides within the man who lives
with too much pride....

He needs your touch
Your Love
Your True Heart
So as I fail the race
Failed to catch up to you with the men at the start

Give to a glance, once again, and consider me
So, in memories, until we can meet and be as one, again...
Don't Forget Me.
Bryce 7d
I do not understand this poet
Nor the glimmer in his mind,
and no amount of persuasion
Will ever make him mine

The great poet the world has known
The English Soul, the Bard of olde
Speaks little but of jests,
and not a word of happiness

But who am I,
forgot to time,
I all but simple words I leave,

I will never have
Shakespeare's memory
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