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.