I count one, two, three and I can't believe
We've made it this far; still such a dream
Somehow, you treat me like a queen
Look, my love, at what we've achieved:
Moments together we can treasure
Conversations I'll always remember
All of the love and all of the laughter
The closest I've been to "happily ever after"

I forgot how
we found each other-
all I know is that since then,
I've been feeling a lot less lost
and a lot less empty.

Don't wait for me
to come to the surface.
There is a lifetime of possibility
here on the ocean floor.
Let me be
the bottom-dweller
first discovered by submarine.
The darkness is not
as intimidating
as it may seem.

Don't feel around for my body
with your feet.
You won't find me in the shallow end
of the sea;
walk down the gradual *****,
where there is no air left to breath.
Over the mountains and hills
and great plains,  then you'll find me
Seven miles deep
in the Marianas Trench.

Then you'll understand my immense stress.

I’ve chosen fight today,
I’ve been choosing fight every single night and day.
I bear the scars now of victories
And the still dripping wounds of defeats.
I’m a fighter now
I fought for me and you.
If I could I’d lay down this spear.
Just to rest for a day or year,
But battles need to be fought.
So I’ll just keep choosing fight instead of flight
Until it’s no longer needed.

To watch him is to hunt him
To wait for the precise moment
That I will choose
Not to pounce

To watch him is to bathe in him
To let his presence cleanse me
Of all the impurities
Found in control

To watch him is to shout to him
To yell out with my eyes and soul
Oh yes, we're fallin' down
So ******' help me up

To watch him is to devour him
To taste bits of well-aged memories
And grow mad at the flavor
And swallow them whole

To watch him is to love him
To fear him, trembling and forlorn
Never tell him, never tell him
Fearlessly watch him

Tell him anyway

Where does it hurt? They ask.
How badly does it hurt? They ask.
What type of pain is it? They ask.
When does it hurt? They ask.
I’m silent.

Where does it hurt? I repeat.
What do you mean? I answer.
Today? Right now?
In General?
By the quadrant of my body?
Aching pains first?
Throbbing pains second?
How about pins and needles?
Should I prioritize?
I speak.

It’s here, I say.
And here.
And here.
And here.
It’s all the time.
It’s constant.
It’s every moment.
And please, I say,
Please,
Help me.
I beg.

They brush me off.
I’m not dying.
I will not die.
I have to repeat it to myself.
Because it feels an awful lot like death.
But I am chronically ill.
Ill, but not dying.
The doctors don’t listen,
It hurts! I said.
But I’m not dying.
I cry.