I Forget

I Forget 

I forget 
That you don't know me
Or perhaps
That you don't know me well

You know bits of me
The parts that you see
The parts that you hear
But that is a fraction
Of the whole 
Only a portion of me

I forget 
That you haven't known me
As a child
Rough and tumble
Backyard adventurer
In my own world

I forget
That you haven't known me
Through school
Reading and studying
Who I am
To myself and others
Where I fit
Into this world

I forget 
That you haven't known me
As a young woman
Outgoing but shy
But only in words
Never in action

I forget 
That you don't know me
Any more 
Than the person you see
When you look at now

I forget
That no matter how close
You don't know me 
As well as I know myself 

Words and Image: ©2021LCR


  1. Is this you in all your glorious hair?? Your poem made me think long and hard about how we think ‘we know’ the poets we read … and we do, in many ways. In other ways, we will never know.

    1. It is me. I love the colour of my hair when the sun shines on it. I generally don't take selfies but every once in awhile I think I need to see myself again through a lens besides a mirror. And remember that not everyone sees me the same way that I see myself. We share so much of ourselves in our writing it's hard not to feel like we know each other (I definitely feel like we're fast friends!) but there's always so much more that we haven't discovered yet, if only we look a little deeper.


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