This is a poem for my sister,
who accepted me and my decisions,
all of it for what it was.
You backed me up through my mistakes --
you were the only person awaiting my return
if I was out too late or gone too long.

It was you who held my hand --
led me away from “too good for words”
and “what everyone expects”
to finding who I was inside.

My sister, you held me when I cried,
when a small part of me was dying because of him.
It didn’t matter to you that I was so weak --
and over a boy, no less --
you only wanted me to crack a smile
to show that I would be alright.

But then when the time came for me
to return the favor,
I myself was even weaker.
I saw inside your problems and fears
my own mistakes, more exposed than ever.

Instead of supporting you,
helping you through like you did me,
I criticized
and blatantly broke us down
from sisters, to friends, to strangers.

And through it all, you’re still with me now
I don’t think I’ve thanked you for what you’ve done.
So I’ll thank you now, and apologize for my weakness,
my inability to recognize a repetition of history.
I love you with all of your imperfections --
I know you love me with mine.

So maybe we’ll talk this up over a
quick white chocolate latte,
Grande, extra shot, as much whip cream as we can fit,
or a simple mug of peach tea,
preferably iced.

Or maybe, enough has been said
and we can leave the past as it is,
now that you have read this apology,
my sister,
you’ll know that all I wish
is to be forgiven.