forget-me-not
Dearest friends, I trust you are well. I myself am feeling a bit down. No one calls. No one is ever online. How on earth am I to survive without contact from you? I feel as though I have disappeared from your lives. *sighs* I am Maryann Dashwood who loves Mr. Willoughby with all her heart and yet, despite his feelings of love in return, is spurned by him in the end for something he deems more important. Okay, a bit over the top, but I do feel spurned. Kinda like the Phantom. Okay.... no more movie analogies, but still!!!
I don't work on Tuesdays, so why doesn't anyone contact me?!?!? I get online, and my dearest of dear friends has abandoned me.
I am in such a dismal labyrinth of despair (thank you Scarlet Letter) that I shall write a poem.
Forget-Me-Not
Shouldst thou forget I exist today,
Remember me on a rainy day.
Or if thou shouldst forget again,
I pray, remember, I am a friend.
Do I deserve this eternal spurning,
While in my heart there is such yearning?
A yearning for a word of kindness,
A yearning for a true friend to possess.
Thou hast hurt me, time and again,
Yet what have I done to you, my friend
That causes you to hate and shun
Whilst on my own, I feel undone?
Alas the day I wrongly dealt a blow
And inadvertently aroused a row.
Oh, that I could but hear thy speak once more
In clarity, rather than from behind a door
Of silent cruelty.
Forget me not, I pray you.
Tell me what it is I should do
To bring you back to me, dear,
Or else to send you away, I fear.
Thou hast denied my affections
And no longer do I have pretentions
Of being favored above the rest.
Now I see, I am not the best.
Forget me not, I beg of you.
Without you, what should I do?
Every day, and every hour
You cause me to feel more like the flower
From which my poem draws its name,
Yet I alone will feel the shame
Of forgotten friends and ill-spent days.
Alas that we are so set in our separate ways
As not to see each other again,
As if this, today, were, in fact, the end.
Forget me not
Forget me not
Or else alone, in my silent prison,
Will I rot.
I don't work on Tuesdays, so why doesn't anyone contact me?!?!? I get online, and my dearest of dear friends has abandoned me.
I am in such a dismal labyrinth of despair (thank you Scarlet Letter) that I shall write a poem.
Forget-Me-Not
Shouldst thou forget I exist today,
Remember me on a rainy day.
Or if thou shouldst forget again,
I pray, remember, I am a friend.
Do I deserve this eternal spurning,
While in my heart there is such yearning?
A yearning for a word of kindness,
A yearning for a true friend to possess.
Thou hast hurt me, time and again,
Yet what have I done to you, my friend
That causes you to hate and shun
Whilst on my own, I feel undone?
Alas the day I wrongly dealt a blow
And inadvertently aroused a row.
Oh, that I could but hear thy speak once more
In clarity, rather than from behind a door
Of silent cruelty.
Forget me not, I pray you.
Tell me what it is I should do
To bring you back to me, dear,
Or else to send you away, I fear.
Thou hast denied my affections
And no longer do I have pretentions
Of being favored above the rest.
Now I see, I am not the best.
Forget me not, I beg of you.
Without you, what should I do?
Every day, and every hour
You cause me to feel more like the flower
From which my poem draws its name,
Yet I alone will feel the shame
Of forgotten friends and ill-spent days.
Alas that we are so set in our separate ways
As not to see each other again,
As if this, today, were, in fact, the end.
Forget me not
Forget me not
Or else alone, in my silent prison,
Will I rot.