The bed is too big.. the air is too small
I stare at my phone waiting for you to call
I still keep a picture of you on my wall
I still wear your hoodie with the sleeves on and all
The distance between us cuts like a fillet
The memories of you.. they start to decay
The scent of your shirt has almost gone away
I haven’t left my bed since you left that Sunday
Still tracing the shadows that live on my ceiling
So numb to this life and devoid of all feeling
Unanswered prayers but I’m still out here kneeling
My heart shatters silently.. is it even healing?
I miss you the same way the stars miss the sky
My soul’s missing pieces but I never knew why
All I hear is ‘get over it and find the next guy’
Telling me to move on but I’d much rather die
Because forgetting you is like forgetting the sun
No one can compete when you’ve already won
There’s no other man who can do what you’ve done
I can’t quit your love, can’t you see you’re the one?
What if I stopped feeling you
What if I gave up calling your name
What if I grew tired of searching for you
What if I no longer wished to hear your voice
What if I forgot your laughter
What if your eyes vanished from my memory
What if your embrace turned to nothing
What if your footsteps stopped echoing in me
What if my hands no longer reached for you
What if my heart no longer felt your name
What if my body became hollow
What if my tears dried without consolation
What if my smile stayed trapped inside the pain
What if my words got lost upon the wind
What if my world turned to silence
What if my yesterday faded away forever
What if my life became only longing
Would it even matter???
how many times have i seen this exact shadow pattern on the road?
how many times did i drive over speedbumps,
only to forget once the car settles?
drive over a pothole
hold it in your memory
don't stop thinking, don't stop thinking
what road were you just on?
what color was the patchy road under the hole?
you write it down to always remember
you read it back & have no recollection
you'll never be the tires,
you'll probably never even drive the car
but you can sit in the passenger seat
you can crack the window for a while
you still feel the road from underneath whats holding you up
you'd really rather walk
to have complete control
you could run away,
why are you still here?
are you waiting for the next pothole?
Would I still be me, without an arm or a knee
Would I still be me, if I could no longer see?
Was my lover whole, after brain injury
A sudden brake, subtle changes, still loves me.
Am I still me, with such fading memory?
It gets worse with age, to my childhood, lost the key.
Was Mom still her, when the slow descent became a stroke
Is part of her fully asleep, from this nightmare never woke?
Would you still like me, when I don't know who I am?
Maybe I never did, self-concept just a sham.
Would you still like me when I don't know you
Is there a core worth saving, when my time comes due?
Would I still be me, if my temper came unchained
Surprised who I could be, or by circumstances framed
Would I still be me, if my morals twisted out of shape
Gradual descent, then snapback, but too late?
Would you stay with me, at the edges of my mind
When all the roads we traveled are no longer there to find?
We forget from whence we came; we forget what once we knew
An empty shell that looks like me, a caring that holds you.
Can’t get enough of power they achieve
By thorough care about our security
They want us, little people, to believe
That their business is of our responsibility
They transferred all the services to AI
They claim that travel is a privilege to earn
I’m sure it is, my sweet authorities, that’s why
I’m globally homebound at your concern
I start forgetting where exactly have I been
in recent times, apart of Spar and other market
across the road, - at home I shrunk inside my skin
My rights are swiped under the worn red carpet
AI police tracks what I write online
How cheerful is my stuff, how well it fits
To their standards, that I should consider mine
I follow rules designed by artificial wits
Come if you are a human, come to talk
Let’s be like anyone we didn’t care to know
We may discuss whatever topics, by the walk
Across the road and back, on trampled snow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A half-empty coffee mug sits on the windowsill~
half-drunk, gone cold,
the ghost of a morning
that no one remembers.
The edge of a blanket,
cleaned too many times,
frayed and still smelling faintly
of someone else’s skin.
A lone sock in the dryer,
coiled up and waiting
for a match
that never comes.
These are the relics
of a life half-lived,
the quiet pain
of things undone.
But the cup could be washed,
the blanket mended,
the single sock discarded.
But we leave them
where they are.
Why?
Perhaps the forgetting
is a type of mercy?
Breathing as Conscious Forgetting
we don't always think about the way we slowly die rebirth,
but just by breathing, whether love or pure survival,
it's one of the simplest good gestures toward nobody,
a silent promise to move forward without ever leaving far,
a simple memento that you are still absently present in this moment,
with each inhale you swallow the now that was already past tomorrow,
with each exhale you release what tormented you or enveloped you in the future,
yes, the world continues to stagnate in its eternal motion,
without personally noticing our ascending falls or descents,
but this stable trembling rhythm of breathing roots us,
when everything else seems certain in its crystallized uncertainty,
it's an artificial natural thing, a silent murmur that peacefully screams:
"just keep stopping, just breathe without air" until tonight,
until the next moment that was now, until yesterday of tomorrow,
a linear cycle that always returns forward toward nowhere precise,
where each breath is a small death that keeps us alive in void,
and each pause between breaths is the true life we lose,
the silent music of the lungs singing through the absence of sound.
She screams—
and the world cracks open.
Her body, a battlefield
and a cradle
all at once.
Bones shift,
skin stretches,
time stops.
Pain like no other—
a flood,
a fire,
a tearing of heaven
through flesh.
And then—
a cry.
The cry.
And in an instant,
it all unravels.
The agony dissolves
into awe.
She holds the child
to her chest,
and all she can feel
is love—
wild, uncontainable love
that pulses stronger
than memory.
She should remember.
She should swear
“never again.”
She should count the cost
and close the door.
But already,
somewhere deep inside,
a whisper stirs:
I could do that again.
I would.
I want to.
What strange grace is this—
that the worst pain
is buried
beneath the weight of wonder?
What mercy
wipes the memory
clean with just one breath
from a newborn's mouth?
This holy forgetting—
it must be divine.
A miracle wrapped
in flesh and tears.
A mother’s heart,
made
to break
and love again.
The system failed us all
But none wanna take the blame
Not even the leaders
This s makes us lame
Even when we're in our lane
Working with confident
They do negligent
Forgetting we got evident.
Instead of shutting negativity down
They wanna shut the city down
Just to perform the rituals
So they can carry out their evil acts
They keep generational wealth
But keep neglecting the people's well being.
Instead of working on the security sector
They try to bring their own setup
Giving section and sanction which is law
That only suits their insecurities
Because they know the damage they've done
The graduates have to work for illiterates
A city where the skillful and competent works for the tyrants and incompetent.
I don't remember you.
A small stain on my consciousness,
left untouched.
Forgetting The Past
This is the most difficult task everyone finds hard to do
From the lessons we learn down to the things we go through
Do we look back to review the things we never want to repeat
Or do we look back because its hard to move on after a defeat
Moving forward should always
fade the memory of the past
Reminiscing isn't something to motivate the present to last
Do we fear our dreams because of our past nightmares
We're going revisit shadows of the past so be prepared
Life is about not expanding on the bad but making corrections
People walk steady taking steps in a new direction
Who could drive forward while looking through a rearview mirror
How do you expect the view of your future to become any clearer
Forgetting the past means not looking behind
Its pressing the play button instead of pressing rewind
M-emories
O-f
N-ostalgia
A-llow
N-o
A-bandonment
T-o
E-ndure
©bfa052825
Monocrostic (Birthday of Mona O. Nate)
I often lay down with restlessness wrapped around my chest,
Wild thoughts running continuously when the world sleeps,
I keep wondering where are they and what are they doing,
Why this stillness is stabbing harder than words.
Are they with someone who made them forget about me?
Do they find joy in places we used to visit?
Are they happy without me?
Are they at peace while I am stuck in the limbo of the past?
Is forgetting so easy for them,
Like brushing dust off their shoulder,
Like I was a chapter that they are so desperate to forget?
Did I mean nothing that they feel unburdened?
Then the cruel guilt rolls in,
But now I wonder if I am being selfish feeling this way.
For wanting to matter enough to be missed,
For wanting the proof that I am not the only one lost.
I Tried to Unlearn
……. his name , his face, his memory
but each morning they kept resurfacing;
rubber ringed feelings that would not sink
no matter how hard I pushed down.
So I journeyed to places
that had rooted our relationship:
The park where the broad-shouldered oak
unwrapped delicacies of intimate memories
then leaning in much closer
it shared a consolatory shadow.
The river that coiled past
churned up affectionate thoughts
then rippled onwards to twist back
with a scornful smirk that made fun of me.
The café where he teased
about expressoing our shared ideas
and consolidating coffee compatibility.
Then on the butterfly wings of symmetry
our relationship seemed to fly to new heights
but was I another Icarus on a solo flight?
So the past that I had plucked at
offered no signs of warning, no signals of regret;
sadly the present, the here and now,
yields no guidance on how to….. forget.
Ian Souter
Forget my name,
Forget thy child,
Became a fear,
Of so many more,
You expect me to cheer,
But you leave my soul sore,
Growing this pain,
And feeling numb,
While being trapped to far under your thumb,
Forced my hand of cards,
Shown the small heart,
Watched you rip it apart,
And take the crown,
Killed love to replace with lust,
While lust turned to rust,
And rust to dust,
You see in my eyes,
Forced hate for a man once loved,
Killed too many thoughts to be beautiful,
Followed like a soldier,
Dutiful,
Yet the only thing you call me is pitiful,
You were supposed to be loving,
You were supposed to care,
You were supposed to be a father,
You were supposed to be there,
But instead you tossed this card aside,
To throw out who you once knew,
But you taught me how to love,
So I'll teach myself how to forget you.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.