I told you, I don't remember.
Why there's little clumps
of jasmine in my hands
or why I feel hollow all the time.

I told you, I don't remember.
Why I woke up alone in the grave yard.
Not knowing if it was
rain drops or tear tracks on my cheek.

Why there's mud stain and rusted flakes
on my favorite white dress
that can't seem to be gone.
No matter how many times I try to rinse it all away

You asked me where my brother was.
I said, "He's abroad."

I lied.

I don't remember the last time I saw my brother.

Nor the sound of his laughter.
The way he have dimples when he smiles
or the way his eyes would shine bright
every time someone mentioned his family

What I remember are
The weight of a pebble in my palms.
The way your throat will clog up, just like choking,
after sobbing and bleeding out your heart.

These days I wake up crying for something
I can't remember.

Though I do remember,
flashes of quick silver images.
How water can chill you down to the bones,
making your teeth chatter and your heart numb.

How it could fill up your lungs.
Making them heavy and cold
with fluid and guilt.
Drowning you down to the bottom.

Though I don't know how I remember that.
I have never drowned before.

I don't remember how my brother's room looked.
I don't remember where the bed was
nor was it tidy or messy.
I do remember the walls were light blue.

The same kind of blue, painted on frozen lifeless body.

I haven't been in his room for quite a while.
I tried knocking but my hands trembled.
Breathing becomes impossible.
I woke up curled up on the guest bathroom floor.

Though his face grew hazy in my mind.
Funny thing is,
I still remember his favorite book.

Of course I do, after all this time
we spent fighting over the book.
Although I can't seem to find it in the library, now.

Maybe my brother misplaced it.

There are pictures of him in our houses,
but my eyes seems to skip them entirely.
Cause all I see was his lips
being bluer than the sky.

I know he never had hypothermia before.

Today I woke up to
a tattered book on the kitchen table.
Soaked with water deep to its spine
picture peeling away.

The book is a copy of The Brother Lionheart,
His favorite book.

There's a black card on the table.
An invitation for a funeral
dating back to two weeks ago.

My brother would laugh at that.
He said that if he dies he wants his funeral to have an invitation.
"To cheer things up!"
He said with a grin I can't remember but know exist.

There's a sound of something shattering.

I woke up in my brother's bed.
His room was stripped bare,
naked with out all the posters and his existence.
There's a wilted bouquet of lilies
and jasmine in his room.

I told you, remember.
I don't have a brother.

;don't look at me that way
With so much passion and care
don't look at me that way
With so much love and hope

:It pains me to look at you this way
I can't have you that's why
Why I look at you this way
You're good and I'm not

:your parents warned you about me
About me breaking your heart
But I can't have that
I can't break a diamond to pieces

:go on, sweetie.
Find your prince
And don't stick with this peasant
Go find your happiness
And not in a pit of darkness

I see her there from across the building,
Hair covering her purple, tired eyes.
Her mind is not here, but deeply musing,
And my "Hello!" makes her jump with surprise.

I sit, and she quickly masks her writings,
Believing I can't see her quick mind shut.
But as we talk, I see she's still thinking;
I ask her what she wrote on the lined page. But

She tells me not. I found out later though;
About the fights with her 'loving' boyfriend;
The 'caring' family, whose care they never show;
And the school that's making her lose her wits.
Gradually, her mind is turning to dough.
She thinks no one cares. Little does she know...