An original poem

Hey, everyone!

I honestly am at a loss for words on how to start this post.
I can barely believe how long it's been since I posted anything on here.
My senior year of college has been a rewarding, but tremendously challenging, experience, and between everything that's happened, all the things I've done, and the various day-to-day challenges I've been working through in terms of shaky mental health and planning for the future, there's a lot to catch up on.

I'm most likely going to hold off on properly catching up for a few weeks longer, until I finish classes, graduate, and make it home to rest for a few weeks. For now, I'm going to do something that I've been meaning to for a time, and share an original poem of mine on this blog.
I've been writing poetry for fun since I was a child (and getting progressively better over the years - at least I hope), and for a time I've wanted to start sharing more of them on this blog (stay tuned for more).

The one that I'll be sharing today is a poem which I've written recently, and is commemorative of a very special and emotionally powerful experience I had two years ago today. I submitted three poems to the campus lit magazine at Beloit, called Pocket Lint, a few weeks ago, including this one, and although they did select one for their spring issue, they didn't include this one, and as I'm very fond of and proud of it and would like for people to see it, I've decided to share it on here.

I hope you all like it. Be back soon!



The Art of Forgetting:

I want to forget the sound of your voice

and the sweet nothings you quietly whispered

into my naive young ears -

how earnest and well-intentioned it all seemed.

I want to forget the rush of the cool breeze of that fateful spring evening

as I walked under the towering golden clouds

on my way to meet you

with shaky hands and butterflies in my stomach

and how every breeze like it brings me back to those moments

of jittery excitement and spontaneity.

I want to forget the hypnotizing patchwork of jagged navy clouds

framing streaks of blue sky

and the lingering, periwinkle glow of twilight above us

as we walked back to my house

inching ever closer to one another.

I want to forget how gently you stroked the nimble tabby cat

who jumped into my lap

and petted her just so,

with your wrist slowly coming to rest on my leg

just to let me know it was there.

I want to forget how cozy and right it felt

to sit next to you on my bed,

and how my heart fluttered and my stomach tingled

when you asked if you could kiss me;

how happy it made me feel

simply that you wanted to.

I want to forget the words of our native languages that we taught each other

unraveling them gently

and trading them with gentle flickers of our tongues

soft to the touch.

I want to forget where you touched me -

that little fusion between thumb and hand

that you stroked so tenderly, so delicately.

I want to forget the light you brought into my room

and the warmth you brought into my bed,

how safe and careless I felt nestled between your arms

with your heartbeat against my back.

I want to forget the velvety touch of your parted lips around my own

and the soft strokes of your tongue through my giddy smile.

I want to forget how you looked at the painting of an elephant inside a snake

against a starry sky

while you held me

and asked if it was from The Little Prince -

it still hangs on the same side of my new room

and I can’t help but think of you

every time I look at it.

I want to forget

the feeling of promise

and hope that took hold in my heart

and the pain that came all too quickly

when the waves of the seas that soon stood between us

gleefully battered and smashed it to pieces.

I want to forget how I went to sit on the porch of my house under the bright sunshine

a whole half hour before you were supposed to come say goodbye,

how my heart tightened and skipped a beat with every person that walked past

even if they looked nothing like you,

and how deeply my heart sunk

when I realized you weren’t coming.

I want to forget

All the miserable hours I wasted alone

hoping trustfully

then crying pathetically

and finally shifting into holding a futile

but festering grudge.

I want to forget the pieces of my heart

That I scattered as I traveled across the world

That had traces of you written all over them.

I want to forget the silly optimism I felt

when I returned

that for once, finally, what I’d hoped for would be.

I want to forget how much it hurt

for you to make me

and everything I felt

utterly invisible.

I know you probably didn’t mean for it to hurt,

but you did hurt me

so badly

and part of me hates you for it

and part of me loves you yet

and I’m so full of anger

but also still miss you

and it confuses me so much.

I wish I could say I haven’t thought of you every single day

since that night

but I’d be lying.

In the end

no matter how much it still may hurt

I’m not sure I can ever manage

to forget something as beautiful

as the evening I met you.