1988

 

Older sister in stroppy teens,

younger brother in mischief,

my shining star,

loving daughter,

my heroine.

 

 

2001

 

How will it be

when I knock on your door?

Will you be able

to face me today?

Or will you peep through

a gap in the curtains

from an upstairs window?

Will we sit and talk

as we sometimes still do?

Me reflecting

on how thin you’ve become,

how pale your skin.

Or will I walk home,

my brain in bits,

hoping you haven’t

done anything silly…

Wondering if you’ve eaten;

worrying that the money

I lent you for rent

could have been

spent on a substance

that leaves you spent…

 

Nowadays no problems

from your siblings,

but what happened

to my fallen angel?

My heroine

messed up

on heroin…