My Dusk

I would rather be forgotten than mourned.

When I pass
I ask I be forgotten.
No rotten fears of tears begotten
by how to go without.
Let not my absence
leave you sad,
my vapors be a drought.

Remember me in certain ways,
like how I played in better days,
but not for how I’m gone.
Do not miss, nor cry or shout,
my dusk is still your dawn.

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