We were like sisters but not like sisters.
We joked we were a covenant.
We skipped class to smoke cigarettes,
exhaling dreams that ended in "O."
At seventeen you held my hand,
while a lucid drunk
tattooed a fairy on my hip, the needle
bringing up beads of blood,
like ancient offerings.
Blood of my blood, born new.
I want to be just like you.
At twenty-two I thought better.
The world called but you just laughed
and hung up. Your reality was your creation
and your creation alone.
At twenty-five you changed your mind.
We were insular fools that could not keep up with you.
Our paths diverged but in the overlap
you found reasons for me to stay.
At twenty-eight I asked to go
but you bound me and bound me and bound me.
I removed my tattoo at thirty-two
to erase your existence and be born new.
We were like sisters but we are not sisters.
And may the covenant return to dust.
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