Forget Me Not

Last summer you stole a bottle of cheap bourbon from the collection your father keeps in the cabinet. Last summer your throat was smothered by fire when you swallowed six shots in a row, and when the alcohol took over your mind like a tsunami, you pointed at the unwatered forget-me-not plants by the fridge. You walked closer to them with the bottle of bourbon in hand. you told me about how everyone in your life forgets about you. You poured the remainder of the bourbon on the forget-me-not plant hoping they would stop breathing and you said, “They deserve to forget that they were once watered too.” I hope that night you know you weren't forgotten about. I remember. I'll always remember you.