both of you, all of us

                                                                 for all my siblings who find a way to survive.

I wouldn’t love y’all

because you’re both

too damn good for me.

too much pain. too much love.

because when I figured out

you were both

born, then both raped

in the same week

20 years apart.

I fell

vanished

scrambling

like a shore crab into cracks

between beach tossed boulders.

so strong. so deep.

even you both who know almost

all of me

didn’t know how to look.

I wouldn’t love

me.

because

I wasn’t’ there

to pull both

of them off you.

to knock the gun

from his hand.

to hold him up.

to hold yourselves.

to hold me.

i walk by both

your dorm buildings,

20 paces apart.

four years after.

shiver. look past. close off.

remembering the day I ran to find you.

you were gone.

crime scene tape on your dorm door

and i fell there

against the frame.

cold metal. broken lock.

remembering the time

i ran to find you.

in the gym

after he attempted.

blood from his wrists on the celling.

but you didn’t tell me till years later

during cooking dinner. and i understood

why you never cried for him.

too much. too fresh.

now, i say a prayer

as tears fall in your memory

as i walk by

as i never move on

never forget.

keep the fire lit.

so hot. so close.