V

Poetry
 To: The delicate brown-eyed girl, 
Cigarette in hand, lost in her own reality, 
With complete disregard for flesh and blood,  
Drifts further and further away from 
The girl I call, my sister. 
 
Together, we grew up,  
Side-by-side, then apart. 
We were inseparable. Now, 
I can’t remember what  
It feels like to know you, 
To be loved by you. For I know 
What it is to love you. Far away, 
Leering in, with jealous eyes 
Wondering why 
 I’m not in pictures with you. 

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