make me measly .

All she wanted was to be insignificant.

She’d wish on a star, but that luxury is reserved for extravagant souls.

So she’d wish on a rock. She wished on a rock that she could live underneath one.

See,

Star-wishes are buried in the hearts of 'noticeable' people.

people who can bare to be seen-

Star-wishing is a pastime for dead men walking, talking

like they call any shots at all in life.

She would have rather had her limbs and mind mended in with the rest of the world-

A number code branded into the back of her skull anytime she had the nerve to laugh-

A reminder of her smallness anytime she had the audacity to be seen.

to smile.

to breathe.

she only knew numbers.

ONE broken hearted girl trying to read the storybook of her life.

TWO beautiful, angelic pages ripped from the binding before she could finish the lines.

That’s THREE tales of heartbreak in the past five years pages that made her decide she resented being "big".

She decided she was a walking target, an aiming post for all things destructive and volatile.

God must have seen her being too vibrant, too tall, “too much of something,” she assumed.

So she’d shrivel.

She’d hide in the corners of clock hands, too small to be seen & behind the means of time.

She figured if she was never noticed again, perhaps she’d keep what was left of this storm…

cutting corners .

i told you this weeks ago .
when tears ran down my face like they raced for first place .
many, many weeks ago i told you that things were swept under our heavy, embroidered rug .
-the rug that mom bought ...when i was with her . when she said, "that's perfect ."
i tried to tell you weeks ago .
you said it was fine . but fine isn't strong .
now your voice is banging against walls & doors & lamps & shades & him .
im only an innocent bylistener, but guilty by association i presume .
every issue you neglected is throwing a temper tantrum in what was once my havana .
but i tried to tell you weeks ago .

mm ,
if a tree falls in the middle of the forest & no one is around to hear it ... does it make a sound ?

i guess not .

signed, a tree .

for my sister .

"God places the heaviest burden on those who can carry its weight.” - Reggie White

high school . ooooh high school . we bathed each other in tears of simultaneous heartbreak . i sent my outreached palms to pull you out of his trap that had you trembling in anguish . you held on tight to my hands as condensation streamed down your cheeks . you placed one hand over another atop my heart and pushed down as hard as you could . you revived my heart when it stopped . when i dealt with heartbreak for the very first time . when my premature heart tried to lift more than the maximum . you finger painted greys in the sky ... at a time when my naive eyes were only acquainted to black & white . we made proclamations into our sky together- that we would never take that disrespect again .

who knew we would bend those play-dough proclamations in college . we fell hard into quicksand love & like a merry-go-round, we went in circles ...too fast to focus . we were so dizzy that we flew off the edge -but hand in hand, we walked away, dusting off our forgotten promise .

two winters ago, i shriveled like the trees outside my dorm window . i called you, hysterical . with frantic fears rising in my throat, i couldn't even choke the words up . "i-felt-a-lump" crashed into the receiver of my cellphone as i hid beneath my bed comforter , shaking . you brought me down to earth and calmed me . 'up north' and 'down south' decomposed because i couldn't even feel the miles of separation . i don't know why i called you first, but i know i don't regret it . you helped to heal .

now it's my turn . statistics of mortality splashed into your head lastnight ; the beeping of monitors and the cold hospital floors poured themselves into the equation . you're my sister, and to me ... you're medicine's exception . i pray for you . with spiritual drums and fog horns i temper tantrum my way into the ears of God . he has to hear me . im throwing my prayers as high as i can & that's all the science i need . we are construction workers -me and you- hardhat wearers that build each other up when life tears us down . well i clocked in last week & i'm working: brick by brick .

- SRD .

learn : http://www.sicklecelldisease.org/about_scd/