My Sister

August 26, 2017

If words could swim, she'd be a genius.

Just float out there, and be one with the waves.

I'd be on the shore, of course.


Through a mask.


If the world was at war, she'd be lost in the wild

I'd pick her up and hold her,

And tell her that she's safe.


On my own.


She laughs when I don't,

She smiles when I do,

I know when when she's happy,

And when she's pretending.


Once I was in a funk,

Drowning in an ocean of nameless emotions.

She would swim through.

That made me cry harder.

My mother said, "You are perfect. I wouldn't trade you for anything."


Jealousy is not a good color on me.

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