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XVIII. (P.S.) I wish I didn't, but I still think of you. I still remember your details, and I miss them. Why couldn't you listen to her? Why didn't take the chance that I did? I hope that you will tell me. Someday, any day. Give up your silence and I will give you mine.

XVII. (Ett, Ensam) I am lonely, an anxious, fearful, awkward infant. I talk too fast and too much and too often and too confusingly. I talk about things people don't understand or don't understand what people talk about. I avoid what others run to and seek out what others avoid. Who am I?                  Who                  am                   I I think I might be crazy. I keep existing, though, somehow not yet taken by Evolution. Is that right? Am I a correction or a mistake? Am I the eraser or the scribble of pencil?

XVI. (Chaos) I can feel things moving, even when my eyes are closed. They are fast and swirling, particles bumping into each other without so much as an, "I'm sorry. Pardon me." You left me. You left me alone and shuddering, convulsing and abandoned. You left me for yourself. How can a mother do that? How can you do that without a second thought? I lost you and was angry. And then I lost him, and I felt guilty. Do you think it hurt when I had to sign away his body to cremation? Do you think it was easy to feel like I should be feeling something, anything at all? My personal existence, it crumbled, it swirled, it tri

XIII. (Closing Time) Things were going to be over, so I wrote for You. Do You remember when I asked on a whim and expected nothing? Do You know how much I was shaking because I thought I had made a mistake that I couldn't take back? Do You think about what You felt, what made you reply with a clear and simple yes? I know it will never mean the same for You. I know you may forget it in time, but You need to know. You need to know -- It meant something to me. It meant I could be happy without over-thinking it, just for a little while. Quiet between the conversation, and the sun out the window with the thin clouds. A

X. (Sister) We weren't always together. We weren't always happy. We weren't always talking. We were always sisters, though. I was still at camp the day that you left. I saw you for a short time and returned to a room that was vacant, hollowed and cold. One I cried. Three I cried. Fourteen I cried. I still couldn't forget you. If it keeps on rainin' The levee's goin' to break. I don't know when it stopped hurting, but I remember that you told me we would always keep in touch, we would always keep in touch. I hope it's always true. Don't lie to me. When the levee breaks, We'll have no place to stay.

IX. (Babble) Rhyme and rhythm do not define me. I define them as I please. I shine a light on them when I need, tucked in the corners of the attic. I reach into my skull, poking at my throbbing brain and plucking out what I need. Dying Is an art, like everything else. I unravel myself, untying each memorial knot in my head and reassembling them on crisp pages. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. It is amazing how real and raw and revealing a person can be.                          Language is the door.                          Language is the key.

VII. (Return) I told you that I would return and this time, I'm staying as long as I want (or at least as long as I can). You brought me so many things: laughter, embarrassment, hate, friends that were friends, friends that weren't friends, et cetera. I thank you for everything, but most of all -- I thank you for him, even if it means nothing and even if it wants nothing. Do you know how hard it is to stand by? To smile and laugh and congratulate, and then have to watch it fall apart and try not to be happy about it? To watch her push me away from herself and from you until I'm not sure who is what anymore? It hurt

V. (Trees) Then I met you, and you took a hold that she can forget but I cannot. You are too good to be erased. I don't remember what I first               thought, but I know that I grew to love you, despite your flaws. For such a name, you had few trees. Instead, there were angry children and hateful love. But that isn't your fault, is it? It was too much, so we had to leave. (I promise that I'll come back to you. I promise.)

IV. (Canada is for...) Of all of the places I've been, I admit that: (I loved you the most.) You were cold, and you never returned my calls, but you were the most beautiful of all. O Canada, Our home and native land. You could have been mine. Why did things have to go wrong? A note and a van full of everything and an empty heart. True patriot love in all thy sons command. Did I wave to you? Did I collect the last of what you were? You are a stain on my heart, the only (but what if?) that matters. With glowing hearts we see thee rise, The True North strong and free. I want to be like you.

II. (Father) Taking steps, I gained my legs and you lost yours. I remember. I remember before you stopped trying. The bikes that we rode, the cigarettes you smoked, (why didn't you stop?) the fishing and the ice cream, the fake dollars with Bugs Bunny smiling up at me. I remember before you stopped trying. And then it ended, and you slept and slept and slept and never seemed to wake. And then it was over, but you couldn't let go, wouldn't let go. Your fingernails dug in but we couldn't go back because it changed and you changed. You became nothing. Don't blame the enemy, don't blame the enemy, don't blame the en