My little prodigy.. you make me so proud, little sis.
I cannot decide which is more romantic,
preservation or decay.
and so I bought you medication
then committed to resignation.
I held your hand in my own
then I let you cry alone.
I felt a shroud of misery,
reprimanded myself and cut my rosary.
I carved a tombstone and wrote you speeches
then shattered my efforts and ripped them to pieces.
I picked flowers for you and God
then waited so I could watch them rot.
I found myself in sadness and stress
then decided to wear my most colorful dress.
I couldn’t stop thinking of me and you,
so I planned a date with someone new.
Memories of us all over the floor
December 28th: an internal war.
Not a war with blood and a gun
but of spite and hate and feeling numb.
A battle between myself and my memory
Slowly losing my sanity and energy
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