forget-me-nots

I bought potted flowers for her, they were forget-me-nots. But I was too nervous to give them to her. I thought, “that’s not something you give someone unless you’re dating them” and I took them home, and I put them on my front door step.

Meanwhile they have died, out in the sun, as I forgot about them. And that makes me think about all of the things and the people that I forget as I transition into new spaces and experiences all the time.

What about all those letters I sent, did they make it where they needed to go? What about that girl I lost my virginity to, is she still alive? And those songs I wrote in high school about the gay boy I was in love with, are those stored in a piece of my consciousness somewhere that I will tap into again someday?

And you. Will I ever forget about you?

Doubtful. One thought of you is like a wildfire that burns through every self-care mental seed I’ve planted that is sprouting, wanting to turn into a flower of other thoughts and creative ideas that bring joy, and abundance and laughter.

You used to bring me so much joy, abundance, and laughter.

And sometimes all I want to do is plant a seed where you stay. To know that you don’t see me as a dead flower. I want you nearby to watch me grow, through each season, even if you have no water to give me. I desperately don’t want you to forget my colors.

I wish I could watch you bloom in all of your beauty, too.

but we require different soils to survive, and that’s alright.