As I lay in my room,

I am assaulted by memories,

neither good nor bad--

but able to cut through me and make me shake.

Next door, I hear her,

quietly moving about and laughing, 

she calls me over--

wanting to share whatever made her laugh.

She shows me her phone,

and laughter bubbles up in me,

and soon my laughter dies to tears--

she doesn't ask me what's wrong.

Instead, she pulls me close,

cracks jokes that aren't even funny,

shares memories with me--

erasing the demons.

She's not perfect,

we fight often,

But--

She's my best friend.

She listens when no one else will.

She comforts me when I'm afflicted.

She's my twin sister--

my other half, 

and will love me

without judgement

without reason

like no one else will.