Forgotten Forest Poetry

It's Me.

Hey,

It's been a while now,

A few months since we last saw each other,

Since the last time I kissed you,

And held your hand,

And tangled your hair in my fingertips.

I miss you.

I miss you a lot, actually.

More than I could describe,

I wrote an entire short story about it,

So if that gives you any idea.

I miss your smile.

And your laugh, god, your laugh.

I've always loved it,

Your eyes, too,

Brown and big, and so full of...

Love.

You looked at me with a lot of love,

At least, you used to.

Now I don't know,

And it kills me.

I hope I'm not forgettable,

Because you are not. Not to me.

In any case you did forget me;

It's me.

The person who held your hand,

While you stumbled with your cane through the mall,

The person who you were very confused with at the movie theatre,

The day we watched the Incredibles 2,

The person who stole your sweater,

And never gave it back to you.

It's me.

The person who brought you chocolates,

And wrote you poetry, and letters,

And gifted you my favorite book from London,

It's me,

Who held your hand and calmed you down after the panic attack over the spiders,

Thinking I would ever judge you.

And who bought us breakfast at 2am, when you clearly needed to get to work.

The person that was wrapped in blankets, and you could not let go of until the next morning.

The person who insisted you wake up at 5am, because told me to wake you.

But it's also you.

It's you.

And I miss you.