Kmary 8h
When I call you
my little sister,
it means I’ve loved you
since the moment you
jaywalked into my life
chattering louder and longer
than all of the rest.

It means you’ve always had
at least two voices
during any battle against mom
and an occasionally great Uber driver
if you requested me before 8pm.

We may have came
from the same DNA
but it’s clear I was our parents’ first-draft;
while you are the final, printed version             
bursting from the pages
wide-eyed and enthusiastic.

You my dear sister
have never walked in my shadow….
you wear glowing shoes
that I even borrow sometimes
and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I yearn to give you everything
That they do not give you,
I want to give you rest and comfort,
As I help you pull through.
If you need taking care of,
I'd promise I'd be there -
But you're so far away,
I feel like I'm not there.

Miles may separate us,
But in my heart I hold you close,
And if I had the chance,
I'd never let you go.

I spend parts of my days,
Planning out ways,
Of how to get you back.
I know you wouldn't mind it much,
But there's always obstacles in attack.

I think you are okay, or at least on the surface,
I have to make myself trust
That you are happy in that family,
That I've been taken out of.

Knowing from experience though,
It will probably hurt one day,
Or at least for the oldest of you.
And I will wrap you up warm
And try to empathise,
Never the less, I will try my best
To bandage it all up and make it the most it can be.

And if you wanted, I'd hide you away and bring you everything you need.
For me general daily things are hard, if socialisation's involved,
But I'd try my best for you,
Because that's what you're supposed to do
For the people that you love, for family.

Lately I've felt that they're stealing you all,
That they're cutting me out.
Our mother only wants me on her terms,
And that's not how it should be;
I would walk over mountains for you, you see.
I can't come to you, but I have tried getting you to me.

Still, I worry that one day,
You'll think I gave up,
You'll think that I left you
And nothing could ever make that true.
I will always try to do what's right by you.

I don't want you seeing the wreckage before you need to,
Before you can handle it.
I need to know you're safe, not sorry.
I'm starting to wonder here, if maybe I'm just being dramatic.
But this is some of the reason that I pretend or hide it,
With the act of being a somewhat good daughter,

Well really it's also because:
It's hard not to do the job when you're with her,
Almost as if it pulls something from me;
Like it's my fault for not having what I want,
And if I'm good in that moment I'll have it.
Except it,
Never comes.

I miss you four,
And I'll always love you more.
Ollie 7d
Lately I’ve been awake
Like in my head
Listening to this artist I found called cavetown
Never have I heard the feeling of empathy conveyed through music before
Or the feeling of dysphoria
And I listen to Lorde because she makes me feel like I’m on the edge of the world and I’m going to fall off of it into outer space
I listen to cavetown because I’m so used to feeling for other people that I haven’t gotten around to doing it for myself and being in the center of the world instead
But cutting my hair, hiding my chest
That sounds pretty on brand for a monster like myself
And speaking of monsters, get a load of me
Cause I know too well how to communicate
Just not with myself
I think I might be transgender
Like a dude
Which is kind of hard to come to terms with
One side of me says gender is a social construct and it doesn’t matter
The other burns for the feeling of everything matters, it wants to rip open my throat just for the feeling of it
It wants to know what I am
And coming out to my family as a lesbian was one thing but I’m scared they wouldn’t love me if I was trans
That’s scary
I’m scared
I can’t tell them
I can never tell them
I could barely tell my closest friends
I know they would still love me
But I don’t know with my parents
Speaking of those, another poem about my dad
Back in jail
I don’t know what I expected
Court comes in a week or so
If it ends up like I hope it does he’ll miss my eighteenth birthday
And it’s not exactly a thing where I want him away from me
Even though I do
It’s more like I want him to get what he deserves
I don’t want my youngest sister to be five years old the next time she sees her dad
But it’s what he deserves
So fuck him and fuck me too
I deserve to be angry
I have a right to be angry
I have a right to want to cry about it
Like how I spend all this time pretending I don’t care
I care so much
Like so so much
There’s more important things
Like gender dysphoria and getting a boy’s haircut later this week
Someday, I hope I’ll ask them to call me Oliver
he/him please
It’s like watching a flower bloom from a bud
or a seed pushing through the soil
moving onward and upward
slowly but surely
toward the sky
to eventually arise
in its fresh green glory
into the light
right before our eyes.

They are taking that old house
into their hands and hearts
removing dust and accumulations
of two full and splendid lives
molding from the clay of the past
moving through the soil of a present
full of challenge and struggle
into a new, alive

This new growth
fashioned from precious artifacts
and art of these two mature siblings
is not a shell which is a house
but a new flowering
which is a home.

What a delight to observe from afar
this new creation
taking shape
that their roots and ours
are emmeshed
and inseparable.

Watching these two
bright, precocious ones
so precious, priceless and cherished by us
is as delicious
and delightful
as sharing a meal
prepared in the ovens,
homes and hearts
of our mothers.

In this dynamic present
we are grateful
for parents who taught us what it means
to make and keep a home
to love and be loved by the children
of generations.

All these children
are present in the creators
and observers
of this new home
taking shape
being painting
into a landscape
that will one day
with joy.
Note: Dedicated to Ginny and Richard as they journey together, sister and brother, creating a new home in an old house.
I was looking at the sea
and I saw not only myself
I saw my friend
left many years

I saw my sister
which swam far away
I saw people
another century
and the future

I was looking at the sea
and saw hours there
saw the hours past
saw the clock real
and saw the hours coming
I saw everything there

Jason Drury Oct 2014
Sun ached to rise,
above the jagged horizon.
It lit the shadow,
of stone work,
of your craftsmanship.
It stood high,
strong and everlasting.
A stone giant,
held together with assumption.
Assumption of him,
the prince that you seek.
Recently one has followed,
to the top where you lie.
He said the verse,
a promise, an assumption.
He would mend the holes,
patch the sides.
As time rhythmically passes,
the tower would stand,
strong and eager.
Until your assumption,
is not yet reality.
The one that followed,
sometime ago,
has left with the moon.
As your eye tears,
the tower leans,
The salty liquid,
corrodes your assumption,
that is often set in stone.
I watch from afar,
knowing the outcome.
I tread among the emotion,
overflowing and scattered around.
As your kin, your brother,
I help to pick up the pieces.
Maria Etre Jul 27
Your body
(h)as bec(o)me
a temp(l)e
"If I could give you my eyes" Series
Hidden messages
Maria Etre Jul 26
I always told
too precious
to be
"If I could give you my eyes"  Series
Ollie Jul 23
I don’t think I was meant to be a human
I think I was probably supposed to stay a soul for the rest of the time I was around them
I was a hiccup where the universe gave me one too many lives and one too many chances to fix it
I don’t know what mistakes I made in my past life
I don’t know how I was just born knowing that there’s something more for me out there and the way I get there is kindness
Kindness is one shot and it’s one of the strongest but mixed with a willingness to fight back it could kill a lesser man
Am I lesser
I say no as my hands shake with fear and emotion
Am I greater
I say no as I lift up the mountains so my sister does not crawl into them as she as learning to walk
I want to tell her a story
About an alien from outer space
Who stumbled upon the earth though they didn’t know who they were
An alien who lifted mountains without meaning to and knew the story of its own life
Once upon a time the alien met humans
And a boy who changed its life
With tangled black hair and a body covered in scars
The boy showed the alien, without really meaning to, how to love
Though the boy himself did not know how to love or the meaning of it
The alien did leave the boy eventually, I’ll admit when she’s older
I’ll admit the alien was a child playing pretend
Because people had always told them that they were made to do great things
And so the child believed that they could be an alien
Someday I hope I tell the girl that I’m made of just stories that I want to tell her about her grandmother
And how she meant the world to me by the time she was a month old
I hope someday she learns that I learned something new
And how the boy taught me how to love but the little girl made of the same father and a lactose intolerance taught me what I could do with it
How the child is learning
Maybe one day I will show the girl this
And she’ll never understand really
But I hope she knows I already love her more than words are capable of expressing
How I felt seeing her is an emotion I have described below
Where you breathe out as slowly as you can because you are terrified you may choke on your own amazement if you’re not careful
The youngest of nine siblings born a fateful two months ago
Already made of everything I wish I could see in myself
And I finally understand the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself
My little ace of hearts, the answer is love
Next page