Crow

My sister's sickness is going to kill me. 

 

There is true intimacy in being understood.
The feeling of sitting in silence and knowing that your hearts are beating in sync.
Realizing that whatever constellations make us up, that ours complete each other.   

 

    We were like love and hate. We coexisted even though others thought we would burn each other to bits, because what they didn’t know was that we fed each other's flames.

I purge my sadness one tear at a time in hopes that after I will feel partially put together.
 

I have a mirror in front of my bed. I’m the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. I watch as I shift and change with the days,  the weeks, the months. I watch my hair grow dull and my smile grow stiff.

You wanted to fix me. You wanted to mold my skin into shapes that you preferred. You wanted to make me look new and shiny. You buffed out my skin and made it paper thin, so you could see the ice in my veins, and the rage in my heart.