Fifth grade, age ten.

When I saw the sunset,

He spoke for the first time,

Golden rays melting into orange

Caressing the far-off horizon

Such beauty had to be remembered.

His voice was so loud that day,

But I wasn't afraid.


Seventh grade, age eleven.

He grows, as do I,

His presence comforts me.

The flame he ignites within,

An intense need to grasp a pen,

Feel the smooth glide on paper.

Mama says he is a gift I must cherish-

I know I always will.


Ninth grade, age thirteen.

The doctor says I have depression,

I didn't realize how sad I was,

She gave me medicine to be happy,

But I'm scared,

He hasn't said a word in so long,

When I need him the most,

He has gone quiet.


Eleventh grade, age fifteen.

I want to burn the pages,

He won't guide my hand,

The words are meaningless,

I find no allure in this world-

No perfect flowers will bloom,

Nor will skies be a brilliant blue,

Without him, I am nothing.


Today, age seventeen.

I screamed for someone to save me,

He reappeared and held me in his arms,

I can feel his pain, as it is truly mine,

That anguish I weaved into him,

All this sorrow he felt second-hand,

The suffering we shared in silence,

Please don't let me go.