i don't suffer from suicidal thoughts.
my best friend does, which is the next worst thing.

i don't suffer from depression or anxiety.
my best friend does, which is the next worst thing

the very worst part
is when you convince yourself you have the power to change it,
and you try and you try and you try.
your efforts remain unfruitful, and you still try.
your friend doesn't even see all that you do to keep them alive;
how could they? they are so distracted by wanting to die.
you can't get upset, because this isn't about you.
you feel selfish, when really you're just doing all that you can.

nothing tears me apart more than seeing him torn apart.
whatever i do isn't good enough to help.
so watching a friend suffer from suicidal thoughts
is they very next worst thing

i am happy
let's all place bets
on how long it will last

even though i sit at the desk
rubbing my eyes and yawning
i cannot help but to myself ask,
what will i someday become?

in one year
i want you to take me to the junior prom
i want the pictures and the four hundred dollar dress
i want you to hold me close, dance with aplomb
i want you to think to yourself, "thank god she said yes."

in two years
i want to run into your arms wearing a blue cap and gown
clutching your shoulders and whispering, "we made it," with a grin
in september, when school is beginning, please just stay in town
and before school starts again, take me places i've never been?

in four years
i want you to fall asleep with your head in my lap
on the couch of our small but cozy apartment
breathing slow breaths; in soft, warm blankets we'd be wrapped
you nestled to my breast; i'll make that three word statement.

in nine years
i want to watch you achieve your dreams and remember
that you played on the tiny freshman field at the high school
sitting in the stands, i'll wish to watch you forever
and try with all my might to remember that the world is cruel.

in ten years
i want to stand in front of everyone important to me
and declare that i love you and that i will stand by you,
for thirteen long years, your wife, a bennett, i longed to be.
i'll read my many vows to you and begin to cry on cue.

in fourteen years
in a hospital, i want to hold our brand new baby girl
i want you to whisper that she's perfect and kiss my forehead.
even when she's so new, we'll see the beginnings of curls
and, together softly, imagine all that lies ahead

there is so much more i could say to you
about how i imagine our life and how i love you, too.
but here i am, squinting at my computer screen
and planning my whole life at the age of fifteen.

i love you more than words can say.
hopefully these words i've written did okay.
happy two years together-- today.

the midnight is my time of night.
or morning, i guess you could say.

the house is quiet, and my dreams take flight.
i dream all the time, but always better in night than day.

the hum of the fan combined with the tapping of my fingers on keys
makes my mind so creative and free.

i think of all possibilities and of my love and how happy i am
but every now and then, my worst fear creeps in instead.
my thoughts are hopeful and optimistic, and then, bam.
i curl up in bed and my thoughts are now filled with dread.

your lips on my skin,
your hands on my back and in my hair.
foreheads touch,
smiles are exchanged.

a grin.
a laugh.
a kiss or two.
an embrace that sends shivers.

i'll never go back home.

in this poem, i'm supposed to convey
humor or happiness, despite the grey
that describes the clouds that rolled
when my humor was put on hold.
happiness comes and goes but never stays.