I can recall that I had been complaining 

My whole childhood 

Why couldnt I get my own room

Instead I had to share with my sisters 

I wanted my own space 

Without them 

When I was 8 

She left 

It was 

3/3

2/3

Then 

1/3

I was the last one left 

The feeling of losing a piece of me 

One third of me 

“Todavía pueden hablar por teléfono va estar bien”

No 

Because she was the same one to comfort me 

Comfort me after it happened, even if I didn’t tell her the truth

I would come to tell her the truth about what happened 

On the phone 

So when i cried 

When she cried 

We could not be in each others dense embrace 

An embrace tight enough to release the pain 

But hey 

It was worth it 

Right?

I mean

I finally got my own room