My other half....

..i glance at her sitting on the couch

she is thin and so fragile as if you might say the wrong word she will crumble into a pile of bricks

my heart is shattered into a thousands small pieces, shards of glass never to fit together again, at least not the way they should...never to be whole again.

i struggle to put distance between her and i, as hard as it may be. some days its easy, especially when she is soaked with liquor and spewing razor sharp words in your direction, then it is easy to turn and  run

like hell....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

then there are days like last night. i pulled up in front of her apartment complex, filled with people just like her

drug addicts, alcoholics, and lost souls...just drifting from day to day, fighting the demons that torque their souls...

not living....just existing to survive...wondering where there next bottle of booze is going to come from or a big white rock...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

she strolls out of her apartment, head down (head always down looking at the ground) her eyes are sunken in and there is a permanent frown on her face ...its been years since i've seen her smile or laugh for that matter...

i sometimes wonder how many tears a person can cry...if they came from a well it would have been sucked dry years ago. the despair and hopelessness she carries hangs on her like an over-sized robe.

~~~~~~~~

this is my other half who has been with me from day one...my identical twin sister...most days i don't like her anymore..the devil surely has a strong hold on her.

once in a while, like last evening i get a glance of the sister i love, the sister i grew up with and i suck it in for as long as i can so i dont forget who she really is, before the drugs and the liquor stole her away from me...it  could be literally months before i see her again...

she's a child stored in a women's body

scared and abused, and the liquor gives her a voice no matter how nasty and cruel it can be...

shes made a pack with the devil and i pray for her eternity...

for the rest of my days on this earth, I'll see her sitting on the couch, Indian style, can of beer glued to her hand, rocking back and forth....that image is forever branded into my brain. 

its torture to watch someone you love slowly and painfully kill themselves and to know there is not a damn thing you can do to help them...the spirit she needs to free herself is buried too deep

ifs as if some is holding a stick of fire and stabbing it into my heart..daily..it never goes away..the worrying, the cringe my skin feels when i see her calling on the phone

and my brain is screaming....

(dear God, what now)

because everyday its something...she has no food, she has no cigarettes, no alcohol...she counts the beers in her refrigerator at night too make sure she has enough to get her thru the next day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

most days im filled with so much anger toward her

for the things she has put my mother and i thru...

i scuffle with where to store it all..

~~~~~~~~~~~~

i just want my sister back

thats all....

XOXOX