Whenever I think of my sister
I think of that god damn fight
we had when I swore at her,
and it was the first time I had
ever done that, ever said a
curse word to someone, let
alone to my big sister.
The look on her face alone,
it was enough to twist the
organs in my body into ribbons
“Shut the fuck up.”
My mind took a picture,
SNAP.
and the image has stayed,
relentless in my mind.
I told her I was sorry but
I knew it didn’t matter what
I said, she would forgive me.
She always forgave me.
Three years later and she
is still as gone as always,
only now the pain is a dull,
weak throbbing at the base
of my neck instead of sharp
pins and needles, and her
laughter is distant, if only it
were just a little bit closer,
and she is still as gone as
always, only now I have
a memory, I’m holding it
tightly against my heart,
holding it tightly in my
hands in case it slips right
through my fingers, holding
it tightly in case I lose it
just like I lost her.
I don’t want the memory
to be just another thing on the
Long List of Things I Have Lost.
