They Don't See Him Poem by Riley Choma

He came so quietly that at first, I hadnt even noticed he was there.

But then he put his hand on my shoulder, and my body became colder than I was stiff; I was ice.

He whipsered in a pitch so high that it hurt, yet still low enough that it was inaudible- a sort of white noise.

What he said are likely things I am not capable of imagining, and I honestly dont even know where I would begin.

However, I do know that what ever he said...

It was dark, it was consuming, and it IS reminant.

That feeling of hopeless- of emptiness...

It hasnt left, and most days I wonder if it ever will.

When it first happened everyone asked what was wrong.

And so I told them: 'its just something that he said.'

When they asked who I realized they didn't see him.

And thats the problem- they still don't.

They dont see his dark figure- his bony hand on my shoulder.

They dont see him pulling me closer to the edge.

They don't see him- they dont see depression.