Letter 1 "To my beloved sister"

To my beloved sister, Amelia.

Sister, I miss you dearly, and the tears I shed can confirm. Our Lord and only Savior whom have heard my screeching sorrows and pleas can affirm. Even the heart that thumps in my very own body can promise you that it bled countless times at the thought of you being far away.

You are my most treasured pearl in an ocean of pure despair and agony. Every prayer that I make whispers your name to our creator. Your name nursed the broken doe in my meadow, your memory calmed every sea of turmoil in my vast roots of emotion, emotions I can't even describe. Sister, forgive me. For I am not a poet and cannot describe your beauty with this withered tongue. Sister, please believe me when I say that you are my one and only muse, the one that makes me want to create innumerable poems and art to please you. You're like the bright moon, your soft hue guides me to you every time I am lost in the desert of dementia that I gathered grain by grain. But sister, wise men say the more you love, the more you suffer. And perhaps now I am terminally sick from this heavy phrase. 

I want to cradle you like a mother would to her child, I'd like to kiss your fingers forever more. But sister, how can I when you're so far away? I have never truly known you, even as much as I want to lie to myself, I've never known you, I've never graced the depths of your past and heart. We have grown up together, yet I never knew of your tragedies and triumphs. Call me egoist, call me ignorant, even call me an imbecile, I'll allow it sister. For you, I'll allow everything. So please, as I beg you with my heart crushed in my palms, tell me what bothers you, tell me what engrossed you so much to the point that you wish to vomit that you wish to scream in torment and disgust. Please don't keep it as a secret anymore, sister. Spell every name that you despise, sing every delight you had, and cut every ounce of flesh on my body as you remember the throbbing pain I failed to protect you from. Forgive the foolish me for even gracing the thought of knowing you, sister. Forgive me.

Oh, but sister, hasn't the pain you have brought upon me enough? Every man you introduced me to tears my guts into shreds, into worthless scraps of fabric. Sister, please, stop tormenting me with these so-called partners. Can't you see the horrible wolves that hide under those soft cloths of wool? Why must you be so blind, so irresponsible to share your rare kisses with harmful diseases that contaminates your purity and sanity. I want to scream at you, I want to hold your wrist tightly until it bruises as I list the burden that would drag you into endless pits of self-doubt and insecurity. But I can never stay mad at you, sister. I can never be mad at you, sister. You are the one and only little girl of my eyes, the one and only beauty I want to protect from sin. 

Yet here I am, even if I cannot express my anger, for there is none. You manage to surprise me with an unstoppable force of bitterness. You are a rose in my garden of herbs, your claws prickly, so you can tear my heart out to mold it into any shape you like. Tell, me sister. Is it satisfactory? Even if it failed to please you. I forgive you for the pain you caused, and I also apologize for the unsuccessful attempt to provide you merriment. Call me selfless, a puppet of vanity, or even an idiot. I'll allow it, sister. For you, I'll allow everything.

You are the one and only girl in my eyes, and you love to abuse the power you have over me.