A Forget-Me-Not Is A Little Flower

To be forgotten, is it such a terrible thing?

Must we to memory forever cling?

No, no, I wish to leave with no trace

Every word I said and wrote be erased

Let there be no image, in mind or frame

Let not even a fleeting thought of me remain

Oh, but a forget-me-not is a little flower

And I planted many, in long-lost hours

But it is not my love that will be remembered

Rather my shame is to be my measure

Little flowers, would you hear my cries?

Might you forget instead, that I may peacefully die?