I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.

keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.

meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am---
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.
Andrew Switzer Dec 2014
I knew you would forget, just as soon as the sun would rise,
But your words, cliché and hollow, came as no surprise.
I asked but one small favor, at both break and close of day,
Just to hear you say hello, but now, hope's bled away.
Sydney Marie Apr 2014
Forget his name, you must forget.
You murmur in your sleep.
Forget his face, try even through closed eyes.
Forget his touch, one that you miss so.
Forget all the times you shared.
Forget the feelings he made you feel.
Forget his words, all those promises still unkept.
Satsuki Sep 2013
Forget me not
I cant
Forget me not
You left your mark
Forget me not
I never will
Forget me not
I wish I could
Forget me not
You cut too deep
Forget me not
The pain may fade
Forget me not
The scars will remain
Forget me not
I'll throw you away.
Forget me not
The blade seemed to whisper.
Forget me not
It fell
Forget me not*
Straight to Hell.
Shantayah Jun 2014
I told him to look up at the stars at night
And think of me
I told him to pick a forget-me-not and
remember the times we shared
Because when I'm gone
I will always be there
in spirit
Watching over him all the days of his life
Elioinai Oct 2014
I love the sea fiercely, as I love the sand and mangoes,
I love you fiercely, as many a poem of mine shows,
You wove the two together, and I do not know whether,
They shall ever, be separate again.
Frustration wells within,
As my thoughts begin,
To turn towards the fact that you won’t ever love me,
I can’t bear it for long, and push you aside,
I won’t be depressed, or succumb to the tide,
Frustration again! I can’t have it my way,
That the first boy I’d fall for, would be mine to stay
June 1, 2012
Well I certainly did forget, and can greet him happily without feeling any pain nowadays, just a mild confusion
Luna Feb 2015
Forget the past
Is what they say
But how do we forget what was already forgotten
MaryJane Doe May 2014
In the garden of Eden
The creation forgot
Picking off the pedals
Of the last forget me not
He loves me
He loves me not
He loves me
Has he forgot?
He loves me
Please
Forget me not
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Basketball stands for war or battle.
That's why I think about the players'
personalities, in my foxhole or squad.
Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan
especially can pass making him master
and commander. To defeat them as we did
is very satisfying. Ben's five year old son
is intelligent but distant. Disdains to answer
my question Why are you you?
                                                       But I'm not here
to catalogue the men's personalities.
I like them. But each of us has moved on
many times, when  _______  suddenly died
the games went on with hardly a mention
and his name has since been forgotten.

But even this, absolute mortality
of not just our bodies but our names
and souls is not what I came
to talk about. Yesterday, between games,
I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes
the high school. He mounted an impassioned
defense of reading as the indispensable skill
when I suggested math, the scientific method
and history are essential too.
                                                 Also between games
Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald.
I was moved by the care he took to satisfy
his curiosity, concerned the subject might be
difficult. He's a political science teacher so
I took the opportunity to ask What ails
the republic? Of course I answered myself
wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq
and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing
I thought, treating the subject with a light touch
heretofore lacking.

But none of this is what I came to say.
A new guy, very big and strong, a
bulldozer under the boards with a good
outside shot if needed got into a dispute
with the other Bob who likes to tell people
what to do sometimes, about an offensive
foul Bob called which we almost never do.
The new guy said If you can't take it don't
play under the boards which is what I say
when I'm pissed and don't give a shit.
Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me
all day. I said He doesn't want to be
pushed and shoved which got a wry
smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
KatsaNovari Aug 2014
I am a Forget-Me-Not,
budding into spring.
I am shy in my shady place;
I still wish to dream.
My petals will remain around me,
Until I feel safe.

You've planted me, watched me grow.
You've whispered words of encouragement, promising me I'll be so much more.
I reach out, as far as I can, my feet have taken root into the soil.
My leaves want to reach you, but you've turned away.
My courage falters, I retreat back to security.
Forget-Me-Not.  

You've returned. My heart flutters with joy.
It's okay, I want to tell you. I understand.
I am not the only flower in this bed. Of course you have more.
Many require your attention more than I do.
It'd be selfish of me to consider otherwise.
Just Forget-Me-Not.

I can feel my petals unfurling. Soon I will be beautiful.
But I'm slow.
My brothers and sisters are ahead of me. Why won't I grow?
I want to ask you, but you're so busy. I shan't disturb you. It'd be wrong of me.
I can do it myself, I know I can. They have, why can't I?
Please Leave-Me-Not.

I can feel the taunts now, the humored jeers.
I thought they were funny at first, but now they're spoken too often.
I can no longer deny them.
They came from my fellow peers first, it was all in good fun.
Yet things have changed, and each uttered word is a jab of pain.
Stop. Hurt-Me-Not.

I was one of the first you've sown, yet I have not grown.
I feel the youngest, my siblings tower over me.
I want to join them, to show what I can do.
But my confidence is gone. I wish to hide in their shadow.
If I am not noticed, I cannot be made fun of. I won't be criticized.
I'm still here, Forget-Me-Not.

Tell me the words again. Tell me what I'm capable of.
I need your voice, your reassurance. But I dare not ask.
I am not weak. You've said so yourself. So why am I still a bud?
Can you hear me? Do you see?
In this mass of plants you tend to, in this bed of problems presented, I am buried beneath, my own only my own.
As small as me, but please, Forget-Me-Not.

I'm dying. I thirst, but no water graces my face. It does not soften the soil the petals of my family block.
It's the survival of the fittest, my only chance my silence.
I must stay hidden, not draw attention to myself. But you notice me. Sometimes you do.
Your presence draws me always, it's the only thing I reach for. I'll stretch until I'm nearly pass the other flowers.
Just let me have the sun for five minutes, I implore you. Ignore-Me-Not.

Your smile makes me want to, but then you laugh.
I've made a mistake. I've shown how stupid I could be.
I try. I really do. I try my best, but when I attempt anything, I make things worse.
I cower back to my place, wrapping my petals around me, my only solace.
My siblings stand tall around me, and whether it's honor or arrogance, I wish I had it.
Ask-Me-Not.

Regardless of my shortcomings, I don't blame you. They're my own fault.
Because of them I cannot grow, I hold myself back.
There are times you try to help. You urge me to grow stronger, and I want to oblige.
But you push. You push too hard, too harshly. My instinct is to withdraw into myself,
But I've made you sad. You think I hate you. And that makes me sad, and angry.
I want to tell you: Force-Me-Not.

You have your own difficulties. It's selfish of me to ever think of a bad thought of you. It's not your fault.
I want to help, but your own experiences have made me cautious.
There's no such thing as love. It's always one-sided.
Even as the bees buzz around, I keep myself hidden. No matter how friendly they seem, what promise the wind brings,
I know the truth. I've seen it happen to you. I don't want to endure that heartbreak, that stupidity.
Love-Me-Not.

Despite my own consolation, my own redemption to your faults, I feel the anger burn within me.
Always the nagging inside my head, the jab of rage when I can't do something right.
Your words always echoing in my mind: You're grown. You're not stupid. Figure it out. I know you can.
Then why can't I fucking do it?! What am I doing wrong?!
I need you to teach me; my teacher, my sensei. You've taught every single one of them. What about me?
Remember-Me-Not?

Each time I think you'll turn to me, each time I feel that you care,
Your attention averts elsewhere. Always someone before me, always someone else who needs you.
Like someone cheated, I am plagued by jealousy. I disgust myself with my petty emotions,
What right do I have? What do I have that makes me more important?
But would it kill to have five minutes where I'm the center of attention?
Hear-Me-Not?

It's a battle inside,
Logic against Pride.
I feel alone,
Though I know I'm not.
Do you see me in this garden
You've reaped and sown?
Can you hear my voice over your own?
Take on the world, I know you're able.
But do not forget what's beneath your feet,
I am not a fable.
In this unbearable heat,
I am still here.

Tend to your children, to those brokenhearted. To the confused and betrodden you save.
Those with no home find it within you. But don't I live here too?
Save,
Give,
Provide,
Love,
Care...
Do all of these things, give it all you've got.
But please... Please....
Forget-Me-Not.
First poem I'm putting on here due to a suggestion from someone I know. She encouraged me to join this site, so I'm a little new, but hopefully not for long!
Jude M Salazar Nov 2014
The dying flower
Wilting, rotting, crumbling
No one hears you fall
Tatiana Sep 2015
How silly is the little flower
to think that it has such a large impact
on anyone's life.
It's as if it says
"I know I am just a flower
and it's well past the hour
but you picked me from the rest
so I must be the best.
So when I leave,
don't forget me please."

But it's just a little flower
that was chosen for no other reason
than to bring a little bit of happiness.
Yet the flower still speaks,
"I don't understand what you understand
but I know that I am not anything grand.
But it was me that you chose.
You watered me with the hose
and I have grown to be old
but now everything I feel is cold."

Poor little flower,
how long have you been here?
Shivering and shriviling.
But bless your soul you still speak.
"I know some time has passed
since I saw you last.
But I remember your sad smile
and how you had to sit down for awhile.
Your thin white hair has become flat
and I no longer see you sit where you sat."

That small, old flower,
drooped one last time.
With one last sigh
the flower picker spoke.
"I'm sorry little flower
it is well past my hour
and you're as thin as my hair
that has become so brittle without care.
But don't you worry
he is coming in a hurry
and I will not forget you
if you will forget-me-not, too."
© Tatiana
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