Thinking I've seen you
arises in me the urge to forgive,
And when I realize the error,
again, I sink into my anger.
For you have scorned me
worse than a lover ever could.
Indeed, we saw love for what it was
And swore to protect each other from
it's fork-tonguèd ways.
And, this is where I stop:
I do not know who failed whom.
It cannot be said
whether you ran away,
or if I fled
in my attempt to save,
But we are now lost;
Sisters who speak no more,
exist only to each other in dreams
and wake to assume it not reality.
Ay, if I could, Sister Soldier,
send you a message in a bottle,
it would read thus:
I am real. I am here.
I have been, and should be, if ever you need.
But messages I cannot send,
for my paper would crumble under the weight of abandonment,
And the glass would break
under the pressures of your ocean.
So now, my thoughts do end
on the subject I try most to avoid.
Tears should fall, as the rain should cleanse,
and all these words shall be void.
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