Forget-me-nots

There is too much of my sprawling self to write.

My fingers stretch across the keyboard and the words don’t seem enough,

They are two dimensional.

But I wish I could write myself into a poem,

So I wouldn’t have to remember who I am

Or who I was.

I am very forgetful.

I think I used to press forget-me-nots

In pages of books

Or maybe not.

I think I liked that scarf I lost

I left it at a party

An earring too

And half the night.

I think my heart was broken once,

I think I used to smoke.

I think I scratched mosquito bites,

Scratch until skin broke.

I think I used to play guitar,

Perhaps I used to sing.

My voice is hoarse, my neck is cold,

Winter melted into spring.

Forget-me-nots came early

And were withered by a frost.

I think I liked a lot of things

And now I think they’re lost.

I think I used to like myself

And now I think I’m lost.

I used to go on midnight walks,

Fill pupils to the brim

With moonlight stars and breathe night air and shiver,

Sneaking out and in.

And maybe I wrote poems that made more sense to me.

They say each cell in your body is replaced

Every seven years.

These new ears hear nothing. 

New eyes see nothing new brain thinks nothing.

I forgot to replace myself now I am a mosaic of the forgotten.

Staggered forgetfulness staggering through the same grey corridors.

Maybe they were red once- I forget.

Memories slip past and the only ones that stay

Are the ones of me forgetting. 

See, I wish I could write myself into a poem

So I could remember who I am.

I’m very forgetful you see.

Did I say that already?

Reviews

[Hairythoughts]

I feel like I can relate to this. At the same time I wonder if I understand it sufficiently. There is so much to my identity that is only latent and is remembered vaguely every few years. Some people say that they never change. I never feel like the same person. Sometimes a few months can bring about a completely new me and wholly new ways of thinking. To write myself into a poem as an idealized version of myself that brings together all forgotten parts... Maybe a painting would make more sense because it seems hard to express something like identity over time. Do you know Theseus ship?