we were little babies
and we watched Barbie movies
and made apple, bread, and cheese salad
I saw you every weekend
and cried when you left
I cried every Sunday
and I looked up to you
and wanted to impress you

you burned incense in your room
dyed your hair every color
you were saving up for more tattoos
after the crescent moon on your hand, and
you kept your room too dark

you liked to tell me
my life was beautiful
and that if you had my life,
you would have turned out better.
what do I say to that?
I am just like you.

you ran away from that bedroom
to live with us
you ended up in a hospital gown
you didn’t want me to know
or to think you were crazy
but I still looked up to you

you wanted to lose yourself
so you gave yourself a second name
and you tried to sell our rings
so you could go live somewhere in California
I try but I can't get hold of you