Mami found a picture of us today.
You were smiling as five year old me
kissed your cheek.
I want to smile, but all I can do
is dwell on how cruel I could be to you.
I wish I could tell nine year old me
to not be a brat and cherish
those last few months
she has with you.
I remember trying to help
you out of your chair and not
being able to hold you up.
You fell to the floor,
and I had to call for help.
One morning, at sunrise,
I awoke to an eerily silent house
and expected everyone to be asleep,
but in the middle of the living room,
Mami and my sister’s mourning silhouettes.


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