If you get there before I do

smell the sweet flowers

that were once withered in the soul.

Tell me how they have rejuvenated.

Send me notes and secrets

only we speak of.

Guide me in the path of death

to a calm unconsciousness.

Show me how peaceful it is without

the people we call lost.

Where only our loves and beliefs

will flourish, not our despair.

Tell me how all your favorite things

pop like neon pink in a black light.

Or the rush of fun and joy that hits

like a gust of wind.

I will look for your presence in the

silence. Hopefully finding you in the field of flowers

that could only be dreamt of.

From dawn to dusk I will search for your ghost.

Hopefully in the white light we will meet, if not then

maybe in the next heartbeat of a newborn

or in a school yard. But us old souls may be

on our last stretch as our wisdom cannot grow more.

We stick together no matter how far pulled

and stretched; knowing each other for centuries

and always meeting up again. We can’t be parted

by even the sword of death.

Maybe born angels, white lighted or dark ridden.

Souls of darkness with angelic shells.

We are the masters of disguise, partners in crime.

We will run the next place together.

I know where we will go

But as long as our hearts stay as they are

We will always be riddled with the dark and light.

Our yin and yang hearts.

                                    -Calista, your sister (actually best friend)