Through doorway cracks left
slightly open
and dim lighting
I see her standing
talking
arguing
with the boy who supposedly
loves her

two minutes into the conversation and
she is greeted
with harsh words and a fist
a hand
flicked fast to her face
head spins ’round
and she sees me –
observing from afar

“I can handle it,”
she tells me
“I can handle him,”
she pursues
and I believe her
and walk away
I leave her
with no words left to say
I keep my mouth pressed tight
tongue tucked back
tasting discomfort and solicitude for
the very first time
I wonder
what difference it would have made
if I hadn’t turned around
if I had stayed
could I have helped her?
could my presence have contributed
in any way?
could I have saved her
from a short life painted with
mistakes?
what could I have done?
anything at all?
my sister,
I’m so sorry I didn’t
stand tall
my sister,
I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to
catch your fall.