do you wish to remember? Neither do I. | Zaila Brinson

I cannot say I’m surprised
When you lower your sunken face
To not meet my remorseful eyes.

Instead you look to the pink roses
Beneath our facing feet
Their sweet smell once filled our tiny room.
They sat upon the dingy windowsill,
Watching us play with a porcelain tea set
We stole from that one peppy classmate,
That always wore her hair in curls
And had pearl earrings galore.

I remember when you broke…
One of the tea cups
And cut your finger so deep,
That I saw your white bones
For the first time.

The second was when you fell…
On that sharp gray rock by the still pond,
While we were running from a stray
Whose food we had tried to steal.

You cried as you were torn open
By the jagged edge.
I nursed your wound,
As I was the only one
Who cared to learn how.

You used to curl my hair at night
Sucking on a blue lollipop
As I sat between your legs
And dreamt of pearls and diamonds

Housing themselves in my closet.
I liked to look in the mirror at dawn
Admiring your labor of love

Thinking to myself,
This is how I should always look.
I had curls in my hair
The day we said goodbye,
You clinging to my body
Whispering the words,
Don’t leave me here.
I always knew that day would have to come,
And that’s the difference between you and me.
I always yearned to make my dreams
My fruitful reality.
So now the pearls and diamonds are cozy,
Next to my gowns and rows of heels
While you still drink from a cracked cup,
In that tiny room filled with dead roses,
Wishing you and I were switched at birth.

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About the author: Zaila Brinson is a student at the University at Albany, State University of New York. She is a native of Las Vegas, Nevada. Her work is forthcoming in The Incandescent Review. You can find her on Instagram @zailagalaxia.