The morning of her sister's death
her sister woke her up by
tickling her under her chin,
she hated when she did this
"what do you want"
"what colour shirt should I wear,
blue or green"
"green" she mumbled into the pillow
"you didn't even look"
"fine, the blue"
Those were the last words
she spoke to her.
Later when she found her sister dead
she saw that her sister was wearing the
blue shirt.
Time she realised
no matter how hard she wished
would not rewind.
Never again could she tell her
that she loved her.
Never again could she tell her
her secrets,
her frustrations,
her crushes.
For how can you tell someone something
when they are no longer
there.
Written by my friend
A.E