My sister is the keeper of nice things  some
cheap  and others   expensive
like Pandora bracelets and quality hair products
for her curls  and she likes  fine dining
and also Entenmann's pound cake,  just flour, butter, and
high fructose corn syrup

My sister is the keeper of nice things, that smell good
like the soaps she uses, the conditioners and body wash
from Marshalls (the good stuff) and those yellow Vitamin Waters
from 7Eleven and the Cheetos.

My sister, she is the keeper of nice things, like
fresh laundry, and comfy sweaters  and hot chocolate
on winter days  and laughter after school,
She is the keeper of nice things, colored socks and
forbidden pastries, creamy fillings and boy talk,
inside jokes and meaningful music

My sister, she is the keeper of nice things,
like books by Jane Austen and Gabriel Garcia Marquez,
like rantings on a rainy day and a million other things
I can’t think of.

My sister-she is the keeper of nice things, that smell good
some cheap, others expensive…

My eyes wrinkle with pain and discomfort
probably from the toxic levels of ammonia   in my room

my cat’s spray  marking territory
no matter how  barren

If you listen closely   in fact   you might hear the sound of the mice in our walls

I asked you a ***** question last night
I was pungent too, interrupted showers
or from the natural  odors this body emits from
stress   and work   and undesirable outcomes

I had moved from my seat to the bed, littered with unwashed garments and ties,  on one corner
stained with blood from my cycle

I had
forgotten to  dab it quickly


And here I found my little life
open and  defective   like a   child’s
suggestion   to     read     the Bible

My garbage overflowed  with rotten items
processed   foods, exposed to the airs of my room,
the sniffs of my cat    and other critters

My eyes  shifting forms  red and gauzy

Maybe even     not even me

Just a mirror     of an old human  feeling
like desire, hate, envy

Summoning   death   for all the wrong reasons

to converse   like old friends
to be let into a secret  room

to become some  thing better

the choices were endless   the maps
you could trek   and run through   the shrubs of
all colors    and whether or not a killer would
catch up to your swiftness and  hang you on a hook

on the screen   I could see the reflection of your eyes
how big they   get  and how  disciplined your fingers are
on the control   as you press A B  or C   or D

how  endless were the choices   of who
you could be   and also, the clothes  and the hairstyles and the poses
how endless…

My parents hid   the bread  you used to love
when  we’d all sit  down  drink coffee   munch on a few
Maria cookies   how’d you jump from side to side  small paws
at our legs   asking for crumbs   when  they left
I searched for   the bread   and found it  hard and stale
on the top  kitchen   cabinet    I poked a hole into one
bun   and filled it with  cheese    
imagined how you’d   beg me for
a piece

in my head,  you are made of honey and steel and I am
always trying to appeal to your sweetness
and get
past your metal

Funny enough, he had been coming
up Snake Hill, was crossing the street and passed
by the Jewish bagel shop
I knew it was him the moment he  walked by
and his eyes
skimmed me without  feeling
Half of me wanted him to recognize me entirely  
including the awkward conversations and little notes on
the stairs   the poems and songs I’d sent him to woe
his heart    but maybe I just wanted his privilege
his strength    his shadow  to become mine

Vlad was still himself,  iced eyes, and blonde hairs sticking out
of his baseball cap
He was still tall and resembled the likes of a demi-God, a character
fit for myths and fairytales

And I was still me or had I become better or worse?
Still my stubby self, desperate for the affection of something
legendary

Destiny   speaks   like a Queen     even
though    you may not love     her now      I don’t envy
her   for the love you gave her      I envy
her strength    for being  able to survive without it