You were always stronger,
and our common mother
reminds me of it everyday.
Whether it be under her breath
or at the top of her lungs.

But I don't mind
because I was never jealous.
I always knew you were meant
for something bigger.
[God did too; I guess that’s why you’re gone.]

I know this is not the greatest poem ever written,
and it's not the best I will ever write,
but it's yours and you mean so much more
than paper and pen.
So I will bury this at your new bed
because I can't bury it in your hands.

Maybe then it will find you sitting among
flowers of your favorite color,
and talking to angels
who equal your passion of the heart.

I never said goodbye,
and I regret that.
But I will always remember
my big sister, who was never to proud
to tell her little brother goodnight.

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