Fall

I never wanted to be your disappointment.

I never wanted to feel this way.

I never wanted to be the one making the 1 a.m. calls.

Those calls where I have to beg someone to come,

Those calls that I make because I can’t be alone.

I never wanted to be the one scared that I might not make it to another sunrise.

I never wanted to be the one pacing at midnight, wishing someone would come in and hold me.

‘Pray harder,’ you tell me. ‘Have more faith.’

I want to scream, I want to believe that it will work.

I have prayed, I have prayed for a decade.

I have begged for faith. I have pleaded for hope.

I have studied, memorized, searched, and pondered.

I have served, I have magnified callings.

I have tried, I have given my all to collapse at the end of a day.

I never asked to feel this way.

I asked to be like you.

I asked to feel like you.

I asked to change.

It never happened.

So I stand, your embarrassment, and your shame.

I stand your disappointment, your skeleton in the closet.

I stand, my knees shaking, my head hanging down.

I stand ashamed of myself, wishing that it would end.

I stand, knowing that I will fall soon.

I’m reaching out to you.

I tried to write poetry during the whole suicidal period.  I don't necessarily feel this way anymore, but I liked this poem.  It's been exactly a month since that night.