i walk down the street with a man's hand in mine
our footsteps stomp to a beat, we walk perfectly in time
his messy black curls twist in the winter air
the darkness of his locks contrast with my silky blonde hair

you'll find no similarities in our opposite faces
the only thing connecting us is our hands' embraces
but we've travelled life together, from one home to another
because this man who walks beside me is my dorky older brother

his hair and eyes are dark where mine are soft and pale
his body is broad and round while my bones are sharp and frail
he holds me when I cry and knows how to make me laugh
so you understand why it hurts when they say he's only "half"

"half" is not a word in my sibling dictionary
he's my brother through and through, anything but secondary
we've shared jokes and games and laughter and all our childhood stuff
we share a life and a mother; isn't that enough?

he taught me how to cook and taught me how to heal
he showed me all his games and showed me how to feel
he told me about mario and told me about carts
but most of all he told me how to keep an open heart

so, sure, try and tell me that this man is not my brother
he helped to raise me and has been there like no other
and true family isn't in blood, true family is in the soul
my "half" brother and i are just two halves of a whole

my oldest friend is a girl with a too big mouth and too long hair
she runs around town screaming battle cries
and she tries to fight my wars so that i will not have to
she is loud, unabashed, unapologetic
and she has taught me to never be sorry for who I am

the boys complain that she is abrasive
she is too big, too angry, she takes up too much space
and I ask them if they'd rather she not take up any space at all,
if we should shut our mouths and shrink into ourselves
girls are better seen than heard and they would prefer us to be
smaller, daintier, easier to swallow
but she has taught me to be immense

she walks with her chin in the air as though she is a queen approaching a throne
to the world she is strong; unbreakable
but I have heard her cries, I have wiped her tears
I have picked her frozen body up off the bathroom floor
and she has taught me that no one is unbreakable

she wears nike shorts and a singular black hoodie that carries her scent through the air- shampoo and marijuana permeating the wind
she acts casual and screams to the world that she does not give a **** about how she looks or how they think she looks
but I know that she spends hours on her hair, her nails, her homecoming dress
and she has taught me that there is more than one definition to the word beautiful

she comes to school with hickeys and the scent of drugs and ***
she laughs and jokes
and I let her
because it is her body and what she does to it is not my business
but she has taught me that it is okay to be concerned anyways

we link our hands together and proclaim that we are sisters
we have shared everything from clothes to beds
from meals to test answers
car rides and late nights and head aches to heart breaks
despite what our dna tries to tell us, the blood in our veins, the beat of our hearts,  everything about us knows that we are sisters
and though my father was pale and hers is dark we still have this bond
because she has taught me that, yes, blood is thicker than water, but love is thicker than blood