To my brother...

To the brother I didn’t know very long...you were amazing and crazy and truly hilarious. Your wild spirit, though hard to tame, proved to be strong and beautiful and truly wild. Your resilience to whatever life threw your way was inspiring. You never backed down or let the fear of anything keep you back. Though you are no longer physically with us, your spirit and soul and art still live on in our hearts and on our skin. Everyday gets a little harder but a little easier too. It’s still a fresh wound and it’s taking a very long time to heal. It’s definitely not the easiest thing I’ve ever gone through. In fact, it’s hell. The news still replays over and over in my head like some bad broken record that I wish never got scratched in the first place. Your heart was beautiful. Your bear hugs and electric smile and bright eyes will always be missed but will forever shine on and be cherished. I love you and still wish nothing but the best for any part of you and those whose lives you impacted even by just saying hello.

To the brother I want to know...I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s taken this long for you to know how much you mean to me. I’m also sorry that it had to come to this for us to actually know the other one. So I’ll introduce myself, formally, as the sister who wants to make sure that you never hurt from this alone. Even though it seemed we lived in the same realm but worlds apart, you were still a sort of inspiration. Without your courage or the courage of the one we now lack here with us, I would not have been able to get to where I am now. We fought silently through the same battles, just separately. Knowing now that we fought those and felt the same hurt and individually had to feel the ache of that which tore us to shreds, we both still rose from it. I love you so much and hope that we will never have to suffer these battles alone anymore. Know I am always here for you, no matter what happens now. Though our trio became a duo, we still carry our loved sibling with us always. I love you.

To the brothers I’ll always love...I love all three of you. I’m so proud of you all in your own ways. My heart longs to be able to hold you guys all close at the same time, but I know that can’t happen right now. You are all so strong, so bold, so courageous. The love in your hearts and depths of your souls is something I only hope to be able to have someday. I hope you all never forget that and never lose sight of what your dreams are. Don’t let anyone put you down for what you may say or look like or feel. Don’t anger because others may not see things how we do. Love with everything you have in your soul and body and being. You are incredible each in your own distinct way. You are my brother. You are what I love most dearly in this world. Though one of us has already gone to take over the role of watching the rest of us all down here, you all are guardians and warriors and creators and masterpieces.

To my brothers,
I love you so much more than words can ever say. You are truly such an enormous part of my heart.

He always said he hated how people always left, yet now in retrospect, he was the one who turned his heel and shut the door on his way out but left the window open to carry in the chilling draft of lonliness.

(ps-He always said he wanted to be like the people I always wrote about. Funny how his wish came true.)

I'm here picking up broken hearts and broken souls and broken friends and broken strangers in a broken world and all I get are cuts from the sharp edges.
I'm dripping sweat from bending over backwards to help the lesser and the broken and I'm left dripping blood from all those sharp edges.

11:11, a time on a clock
Some hope for luck, others for sleep
You hoped for love, which you found in me
Time passed on, many times over
We drew apart, as did the minutes between
Until tonight's 11:11, when I wished for you

Notes on your window
So subtly appear
As though they came from thin air

No rhyme, but reason
A familiar flick of the e's in everything
Glimpse of hope

A handwriting technique you know well
Smeared ink against the fibers
Calling out for one last message

They seem to procreate every few weeks
A simple one
Minimalistic hopes of something

Nothing more to lose
Just a note on your window
Signed by a smeared "O"

My God, he could never understand why she watched so many music documentaries, listened to so many eclectic songs, so many symphonies and just be flooded with emotions. He never got it. He never got her. He got bits and pieces of her, yet the rest was a mystery. She was his paradox. He'd sit and watch her get lost in a sonata, a Van Halen guitar solo, or simply a musician along Music Row. He never could understand how she did it. How, even though she was so different and foreign, that she could feel so much like home to him. So close to what he needed forever. She was his beautiful, mysterious, paradox.

I'm really bad at building relationships and friendships and -ships of all sorts and my ancestors probably helped build Titanic because of how many ships im unable to build and keep a float for more than a little while. I try, I do, but they always flood and sink.