i. You sat down next to me and asked me what I was reading. When I looked up, you became just another encounter in my life—a face that I’ll remember as the person who approached me that day. When you left, I didn’t think of you again.

ii. I saw you again and you were reading that book. Your face lit up when I approached you this time and you began to excitedly tell me the things I already knew about the characters; love lines were just being introduced and you couldn’t wait to see where they would end up. I already knew the ending, but I couldn’t wait either.

iii. Our unplanned encounters began to be planned. We spent hours at the café down the street, talking about music and books and philosophers and life. Cup after cup, we abused the all you can drink coffee option until we were taking turns using the restroom. I never wanted to leave.

iv. We moved from the café back to my apartment. You didn’t mind the mess; I didn’t mind showing it to you. Our discussion of the novel you finished turned into a silent discussion of our bodies that traveled on deep into the night. When I woke up the next morning, you were gone.

v. I didn’t see you after that night, even when I inconspicuously walked by the bookstore and the café. There were a few times when I walked in and sat down at the table where you had told me that your biggest fear was losing the necklace your deceased mother had left behind. I drank a cup of coffee and couldn’t tell if I had lost you or if you had left me behind.

vi. We met again and you didn’t remember me.

i.*
She's beautiful. She's an angel. She's everything we asked for.* I cried for the hopes and dreams of a future that was never mine. I didn't know any better, so I kept crying.

xiv.
You can't run around like before anymore. Don't get your knees *****. Elbows off the table. Grow up. I brushed my hands of the dirt and picked myself up, because ladies weren't supposed to pick earthworms out of the grass. I picked up eyeliner instead.

xvi.
I'm trusting you. Don't get into trouble. Don't do anything dumb. There's something satisfying about hearing the roar of an engine at the start of a July evening. With the wind in your hair, freedom at your finger tips, I could have done anything. But I shut off the car and went inside.

xviii.
You're grown up now. You're an adult. You can't afford to make stupid mistakes anymore.  I was composed of keg stands, one night stands, roommates, 2am Taco Bell runs, first dates, caffeine, prayers, tears, insecurities, heart to heart talks, "just try it, it's fun, I swear", friends that turn into bridesmaids, broken promises and broken hearts. I can still hear the train's whistle.

xxi.
I told you not to do anything dumb. I told you not to make stupid mistakes. I don't know what to tell you anymore. Here's a standing ovation to being immortal; hats off to the teary drunken nights and the existential crises. These are the days that we'll look back and wish we never wasted and I'll wonder why I let you wipe your muddy shoes on me.

I’ll talk about the way I’ll never let you step into a puddle again. When it’s raining out, don’t forget to call me. I’ll rush to your side and carry you on my back—don’t ruin your shoes because of a little bit of water. When you’re hungry, tell me what you’re craving—I like to read cookbooks during my spare time just to keep up with your taste buds. I’ll write you letters if we’re ever apart—to my love, from your love. Three, two, one, I’ll count down the seconds to your birthday and surprise you with a cake I worked meticulously on the night before while I suggested you go out with your friends. When you come home, the house will be clean and your bath will be running. I can take care of you—I can’t take care of myself very well, but scout’s honour that I learned how to treat diamonds during my time in boy scouts. When the sun is setting and it’s time to retreat to bed, don’t forget to sleep in my arms; I wait all day for the moments where I get to hold you. Have I ever told you how much I like to watch you sleep? Sometimes you adopt the softest snore and you always, always, always wrap your body around mine as if you were afraid I would leave. What you don’t know is how afraid I am that I would wake up and you wouldn’t be there—well, I’m awake now.

And you’re not there anymore.

someone asked me who i was
with a smile, i said:
as of february i am
not a man, not a son
not a brother nor a human

i am a collection of memories
that you had given me, stories
of you laughing on that summer
night and the tears you cried
when your best friend left—
i am an anthology of poetry
you never read, not because
you didn’t like it but because
you were the rhythm in the core

someone asked me who i was
and i told them that
i wanted to be yours

You have always been unpredictably cool and golden retriever status loyal. You hid in closets with me when Mom and Dad were yelling and you held my hand through each silent treatment and each “let’s sit down, we need to have a talk” moments. You came to me when you needed help reading and to pick out clothes for school dances.

You were the first person to laugh at all my jokes and the first to tell me that that dress did make my *** look big—you were also the first to remind me that I was beautiful, especially when I didn’t believe it myself. You didn’t stop crying when I hugged you, but we’d both just end up in a teary, sobbing mess because when one hurt, so did the other. You put up with my obnoxious free-spirited ways that collided with each of your organized, to-the-point methods all these years and never once questioned me. You had my back even when I was in the wrong. You believed in me when no one else did.

You grew up to be amazing. Whatever you wanted to do, you did it. You studied and you learned and you just grew into this person that I knew you could be. You’ve had a number of set backs but your ability to keep moving forward is what makes me admire you. The world is at your disposal—you are now in control. The dreams you’ve had for a while now are finally coming true, and it’s because of you that they are. I couldn’t be prouder.

Your attention to detail always fascinated me. You never forgot a single appointment, a birthday, a dollar loaned, where Dad left his car keys—whenever I was lost, you help me find my way again. Although you’re the “little” sister, you’ve always been the one I looked up to.

When people walk all over your heart and took you for granted, I was proud of you for standing up for yourself and removing those who aimed to bring you down. Although you lost a number of friends, you never lost yourself. You found solace in those who truly deserve to be in your life, learning a lesson that took years for me to learn.

To this day, there’s no one who can get under my skin more than you do. There’s no one who knows better than you what buttons to push with me, but there’s also no one who knows better how to cheer me up after a long, exhausting day. Fighting with you is more aggravating than with anyone else—the world is only correctly in place when we’re in sync, so kudos to us for not being able to be mad at each other for more than a few hours.

We used to say that if we weren’t sisters, we probably wouldn’t even be friends so I’m glad that the universe blessed me with someone like you. I can’t imagine sharing parents with anyone else, because who else could do what you do? I thank my lucky stars that I have you around, because with parents like ours, I’ll need someone to talk about whatever embarrassing or nurturing or cute or terrible or weird or unfair thing they’re up to next.

What else can I say? Even though you’re 3,000 miles away and we’re about to begin the rest of our lives, I know that one day we’re going to be the weird old ladies on the block still listening to the Backstreet Boys and making bad impersonations of our relatives.

Sometimes I don't think I should write
Because all the feelings I have,
Words can't do them justice to me
Writing is beautiful, truly an art
But when I'm in love, or morose
The words typed in this poem style
Don't come close to what's in my heart

our love is my daily coffee
the first thing i look forward to
in the mornings.

the only difference
is that i can't add sugar
when our love is bitter,
and you've always had a thing
for liking your coffee black.