Starving Sisters

To the sister I only sort of had.

Starving Sisters:

Your blood bubbles through blistering blue veins.

I can hear it out here,

Out here in this wilderness where you’ve shoved me,

Into the back of your head like a bad idea,

A lost thought,

A faded memory.

I am wandering these woods alone,

Thick, overgrown,

The back of your mind is like a forest to me.

But this is where you put me.

I am starving out here.

Ravaged for revenge,

Famished for family,

Hungry for home.

Sister,

Somedays it feels like we are wolves.

Savages left to fend for ourselves in a wilderness not our own,

Marking territory with slammed doors and open sores,

Learning to live in the back of each other’s minds,

It isn’t easy to accept being forgotten.

Sister,

Come home.

Come home because when I see my twin friends,

All I can think of is you.

Come home because when you left

I wasn’t ready to forget,

Come home

Come home because this day could be my last,

And I still haven’t said I love you yet.

Sister,

I made the bed up

Dusted off those old picture frames,

Changed that flickering light bulb in your room

And organized your desk,

But I know that tonight,

You won’t even give me a second thought,

Won’t let me cross your mind for a fleeting moment.

In fear of what remembering might make you regret,

So I’ll sleep alone tonight,

In this wilderness where you’ve shoved me,

Into the back of your mind like a bad idea,

A lost thought,

A faded memory

A dying dream.

Author's Note

My poetry is meant to be read aloud and not read on the page. Please take this into account when reviewing. Thanks! --JM

Reviews

[Simba]

Another one of your poems that really doesn't need to be heard I only realised this was yours when I saw your picture, it's hard to be alone, when you know there is someone out if only they could reach out an olive branch, sometimes we want to forget but we will always remember into he end. X

[Jane Magnani]

Thank you so much for your kind words!

[Simba]

Although they are kind words I feel your not giving your self enough credit...be proud of your work, you make people feel and that's what poetry is about. Xx

[Jane Magnani]

Aww you're so kind. I try to give myself credit. But really, my poetry is always about others. It is my job to speak for people who cannot speak for themselves, to tell stories that would otherwise go untold. So while I may be the writer, the real champion is always the readers and the people who appreciate my work enough to read it. :) Thanks again!