Baby

I remember sweat, and sticky water, Our bodies pressed in deafening sound, Your hair a perfect frame To what we screamed, but only mouthed. Pure strangers laughing ecstasy, Eyes met by future friends, You became my bosom-rebel As we made each other’s ends. I’d sew the details, to your dresses, Bite wear into your clothes, You were the symmetry of person, The confidant I’d never known. I remember fingertips, and lipstick, A roughness to our softened skin, The smile you used to give me And how neither would give in. The way you used to kiss me And pull my bottom lip, How only you could say it And it bitterly was missed. We knew then just how stupid Our sharp words must have been, That car with blinding headlights Dragging two girls in. The way they took and broke you, The sound of muffled screams, How I couldn’t even feel What was happening to me. I remember how your soul died, Scarred wrists and corner beds, How you knew you weren't the same But were too proud to take the meds. Coming home that Sunday morning, Your three missed calls that said Panadol was how your whole died, That my rebel-girl was dead. To my baby, of a million words, The kind a vigilante sends, Through bipolar blood and tears I loved you to the end.