Acer Sacharrum

Purple paper ripped out of my notebook 

you're beautiful in all the ways 

it says in my purple fountain pen 

I taught my sister how to hold the pen 

and she wrote me the note 

In my attic I keep my heart. 
I hold it there, safe amidst pillows, blankets and childhood stuffed animals. 
When I make things, I break off a piece of my heart, 
and sew it into pillows, 

Her room smelled of lavender and gardenias

As we lay under silky rays of sun

And danced around the truth in long, snaking sentences,

Words falling over one another until they

Became nothing, only syllables