My temporary existence is all I ever think about. All that ever wanders my mind. I am a dried flower that is soon to lose its fragrance. I am a battered, old toy that is no longer soft to the touch. I am a childhood dish that no longer tastes quite as pleasant as remembered. I am the fading colors of an old photograph, taken with the intent of preservation.
Even so, I hope you keep the flower framed on your wall to remind you of the day you plucked it. I hope you still hug the toy to your chest when you're feeling nostalgic. I hope you still eat the dish to relive memories you forgot. I hope you still look at the faded photograph to remind yourself of why you took it in the first place.
I hope you think of me. Remember me. I hope you become aware of my existence from time to time. Don't forget me the way I've forgotten myself.
YOU ARE READING
efflorescence
Poetry[efflorescence] the action or process of developing and unfolding as if coming into flower - a collection of wilting thoughts
