it still rains like this...

http://threeriversdeep.wordpress.com/tag/rain/

vignettes

1.

every day

i make new decisions

roll back old ones

sometimes

they become so entangled 

they become each other

2.

you're a bundle in my arms, my brother

so fragile against my heart
sometimes, i want to weep

3.

brother, 

you're still the baby who can stand before me

and point at the patch on your thigh

bitten by some bug

4.

love,

you're the man who stands in the rain

talking about poetry

while my eyes pool in darkness

because i'm about to cry

5.

you're the man who cannot see my tears

because you do not see my sadness

over the impossibility of you 

you are my seance

am always talking to you in my head

explore

every time i'm scared of the changes i'm about to embrace, i just have to think of the people who haven't been scared to take chances, even though it meant losing everything. because unless you take the path untrodden, how do you make discoveries?

I know

Baa, I'm sorry about your bike. I know it breaks down every day and I pretend I don't see the paint peeling off it when I walk past it into the house every evening, when I return from work. Mamu says you've had to get it fixed nearly every day. I know you haven't told me. But I know it's not easy for your old bones to drag them every couple of days to your destination. I'm sorry I don't have enough money to buy you a new one. I'm sorry I've failed as a daughter. There's nothing I wouldn't do to make sure you stopped drinking to kill your thoughts; to make sure you knew I care about your plans even if I don't listen to you half the time. But I'm growing old too, Baa. And I fear that I'll probably end up like you. Maybe that's the reason I avoid you so. I see my future in your every day. I see a woman who will have failed in every way and would have been forsaken by those she's loved the most. I know these are not things I should be thinking. But I also know I can't help us right now and I'm feeling like there's not point in anything..

As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?

Gabrielle Aplin's Home

what if you really did miss me?

 then maybe life would be a little different.
and there would be no turning-in of daggers in this heart