From the depths of my sister's eyes
I found castles built upon hills that would never be touched by the sun.
Here her fortress of human,
Cascading light outward,
Wrote symphonies of melancholy
Until every paradox played pity poetry.
She would not speak a word,
Yet arms enclosed around her,
"I’m sorry" I said.
Tears would hang onto the precipice of her eyelashes
Begging, “Please don’t let them know
That my ice, cold heart melts.”
Dormitories of lost carriages and open wounds
Like silver plattered i love you’s that would
Just get sent back to the kitchen.
It wasn’t what they ordered.
No, they wanted your confidence on a skillet,
A tall glass of Abuse Me,
With your insecurities on the side.
Now see that’s what indulges them.
Little sister, do not break as they turn your immobiles.
You diamond of strength,
With pure crystal lungs
And steal volt of a rib cage.
Do not let his laser hands touch you.
If he says he wants the light on,
Tell him about your moonlight smile.
If he says he wants to see you naked,
Tell him about your December in the psychiatric hospital.
You are not like the other mountains,
Your Everest avalanches into the ocean.
High tide with erratic currents washing up all the debris lost at sea.
Do not struggle its pull,
Or attempt to hinder its rise.
For all you’ll find is
Yourself,
Crushed under the formidable waves.
There is no rest for the wicked,
The rage does not wither with sunset
Nor wince come dawn.
Though you wish your waters would reach
The mouth of your volcano,
The high will not last the journey.
Somewhere in the foliage you will find yourself
Subsided,
In a battle field,
Unarmed.
Desolate.
Dead rose bushes will look like home
And you will fall asleep
Tangled in the thorns
But the cuts won’t hurt as much as that
Two headed dragon
That’s been trying to blow out the birthday candles inside you,
Not realising that he’s left
Every last piece of you in ashes.
But the candle continues to burn.
The sun won’t shine here.
Neither will you.
You will stare into rivers wishing the reflection would change.
You will try finding vines on trees strong enough to hang from, but pretty enough to still look like a necklace around your neck.
At these times, little sister
Remember:
You are more than skin on bones
You are midnight cast shadows
To the nocturnal.
You are laughter like orchestra,
Like finger’s on cello,
You are strings,
That will shiver and shake,
But never, not ever
Break.
You are eyes like Van Gogh’s finished canvas.
You are not the store bought version of beautiful,
You are the definition.
You are not an extra 5 cents.
You are the change that will make a difference.
You are the earth’s 8th wonder.
You are bombarded significance
You are.
You are.
You are.
So don’t ever give up.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
From the depths of my sister's eyes
I found castles built upon hills that would never be touched by the sun.
Here her fortress of human,
Cascading light outward,
Wrote symphonies of melancholy
Until every paradox played pity poetry.
She would not speak a word,
Yet arms enclosed around her,
"I’m sorry" I said.
Tears would hang onto the precipice of her eyelashes
Begging, “Please don’t let them know
That my ice, cold heart melts.”
Dormitories of lost carriages and open wounds
Like silver plattered i love you’s that would
Just get sent back to the kitchen.
It wasn’t what they ordered.
No, they wanted your confidence on a skillet,
A tall glass of Abuse Me,
With your insecurities on the side.
Now see that’s what indulges them.
Little sister, do not break as they turn your immobiles.
You diamond of strength,
With pure crystal lungs
And steal volt of a rib cage.
Do not let his laser hands touch you.
If he says he wants the light on,
Tell him about your moonlight smile.
If he says he wants to see you naked,
Tell him about your December in the psychiatric hospital.
You are not like the other mountains,
Your Everest avalanches into the ocean.
High tide with erratic currents washing up all the debris lost at sea.
Do not struggle its pull,
Or attempt to hinder its rise.
For all you’ll find is
Yourself,
Crushed under the formidable waves.
There is no rest for the wicked,
The rage does not wither with sunset
Nor wince come dawn.
Though you wish your waters would reach
The mouth of your volcano,
The high will not last the journey.
Somewhere in the foliage you will find yourself
Subsided,
In a battle field,
Unarmed.
Desolate.
Dead rose bushes will look like home
And you will fall asleep
Tangled in the thorns
But the cuts won’t hurt as much as that
Two headed dragon
That’s been trying to blow out the birthday candles inside you,
Not realising that he’s left
Every last piece of you in ashes.
But the candle continues to burn.
The sun won’t shine here.
Neither will you.
You will stare into rivers wishing the reflection would change.
You will try finding vines on trees strong enough to hang from, but pretty enough to still look like a necklace around your neck.
At these times, little sister
Remember:
You are more than skin on bones
You are midnight cast shadows
To the nocturnal.
You are laughter like orchestra,
Like finger’s on cello,
You are strings,
That will shiver and shake,
But never, not ever
Break.
You are eyes like Van Gogh’s finished canvas.
You are not the store bought version of beautiful,
You are the definition.
You are not an extra 5 cents.
You are the change that will make a difference.
You are the earth’s 8th wonder.
You are bombarded significance
You are.
You are.
You are.
So don’t ever give up.
In retrospect I realised that this is probably a letter to my younger self.
