no one prepares you for the day after.
The aftermath of your thoughts, feelings, body and pain.
Once the shock weres off; like lasts night's intoxication to forget.
Too bad it doesn't give you the full amnesia for the events beforehand.
Maybe that's why they're called forget me knots.
The realization of this is the end and you’ll have to start all over.
Don't want to start all over- I just want to start a new- take us back to where it began to fix what soon will be broke
Without you- there isn't enough forget me knots.
Let's go back to hello…
About the Creator
Jen Phillips
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The Missing Ingredient
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tóthabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Forget me knots... That is gold!
Fantastic poem!