guilt-ridden. i feel a man's

hands wrap around my

waist, hugging my frame

from behind. guilt-ridden.

i feel the warm embrace 

of someone gentle who i

love. guilt-ridden. i try

not to think of the past,

memories lost in moments

of sorrow and joy. guilt-

ridden. i'd do anything to

bring her back, just to 

ask her if she died

because she loved me,

or died because she 

didn't love me enough.

a younger sibling's job

is to be loved, but by

whom first? who should

i think of first? myself,

or my sister?