Epitaph in Depression

I’ll never be the most attractive girl in the room.
I’ll never have your full attention.
I’ll never be enough for you.
I won’t entertain that pretention.

But when they ask who loved you longest I will stand to speak.

I won’t be charming, cunning, or witty.
I never was funny or pretty.

I’ll talk of the laughter, the good times we had.

I knew you loved me.
Our life wasn’t bad.

You said I was important, that I was the one.
But I’ll still wonder when all’s said and done:

Am I really the one after all these years?
Did you stick it out to avoid all the tears?

Would you have someone else here to talk about you?
But I couldn’t ask after all we’d been through.

Was there another who knew better than I?
Is she here now, watching me cry?

Does she know of our struggles, time torn apart?
Was she expecting her turn to start?