Forget me not.

I am a poet, not.
Lover, not.
Believer, not.
A giver, not.
A florist, not.
Beautiful, not.

My faith is barren,
My dreams are colored with no bright hues.
Dry kisses touch my parched soul,
Fullfilling me, not.

And I have seen the eyes of slient whimpers,
Wrapped in the agony of twisted emotions,
Destructive and powerful,
But shattering me, not.

And I have heard cacophony of hollow simpers,
Reverberating with their own illusions,
Enthralling and luring,
But captivating me, not.

Running barefeet on the path of life,
Bleeding on the rocks in my way,
They cut me deep,
But I give up, not.

I have cleaved the skies with my hands,
Shone through the clouds,
Light bright and radiant on my face,
It's mine to feel,
Follow me, not.

Hate me, not.
Love me, not.
But forget me not.


copyright June 2007