today my sister would have been 27.
her last birthday, celebrated, was the 18th.
she died 4 days later.
this morning i cried when i remembered
last night's dream:
i had a time machine,
and sweet and loving, tender me,
27-year-old me, went back then,
to my soon to be 18-year-old sister,
wriggling in bed from the pain,
and with the sweetness only time gives you
i took her suffering away.
a new chance at life, magically.
with a cup of coffee in hand i cried
out of frustration and hearbreak
at the impossibility of life,
the permanence of death,
the undying quality of love.
i cried hours ago but it still feels tender.
my eyes feel swollen and my head hurts.
i've been reading, trying to get poems out of my head,
sit down, maybe type something.
it's a beautiful day and the spring sun shines again
in my kitchen:
the birds sing in the distance,
the refrigerator slowly hums,
my boyfriend kisses my cheek and understands
how i will always hurt.
the undying qualities of love.