We’ve lived in two different houses

both of which

we were alone

   just us

and no one would even know

someone else

was with us in there

until they heard our mama’s angry screams

or smelled our clothes stained with cigarette ashes.

 

We were two different roses on the same bush,

surrounded by thorns.

And as you were the sun

I was the moon,

chasing each other across that

single silver star

which lay on the movie theater floor.

The dark ground our universe

the popping popcorn

like the applauding of other planets.

The tearing of tickets

like the lighting of a match

a distant sun bursting.

 

Remember?

 

We’ve inched up the same door frame

and fallen asleep in the same crib.

 

We’ve stepped barefoot together

feet skimming

against cold, slippery stones

against gravel streets that steam.

 

We’ve ruined our performance

two impish toddlers on a stage

giggling mischievously

skipping freely

tumbling without grace.

 

Yes, I steal the clothes

and you hog the bathroom

 

But we’ve pinched cotton candy off the same cone

and anyone can see we care.

Because we still laugh

when we come across that silver star

 

Because you’re my sun

and I’m your moon

and forever

we’ll revolve around each other

 

Because you’re the corner of my lip,

tugging upwards to the blush of  my cheek

tugging downwards to the teardrop hanging off my chin

 

Because you’re the well in my eyes,

filling with the soft rain of mist

or the damaging ice cubes of hail

 

Because you’re my fingertips,

guiding me forwards to comforting warmth

guiding me backwards from searing fire.

 

Because you’re my sister.

 

The only rose on that thorn-filled bush

Wilting,

Growing,

And blooming beside me.