My sister was born out of passion,
A mistake that cut young lives short.
I was born out of love,
An extension of your little family.
My brother was born out of desperation,
One last attempt to rekindle the lost love.
Your little ones were there to witness it.
We watched as you smiled at her,
Like you found your forever home.
We saw you embrace and hold each other
As if you never wanted to let go.
You made us believe the passion
Between two people was more
Than we could comprehend.
We watched as you tiptoed
Around the couch trying not to wake her,
We saw the days he was too sick to get up
And now you nursed him back to health.
You showed us love meant
More than you and me,
It meant sacrifice and understanding.
We watched as the nights got longer
And you came home late.
We saw the pain in your eyes
And the light that was now dull.
We listened to the screams that raddled
The same living room that used to shake with laughter.
We climbed into each other’s beds
And made up stories to block out the sounds.
My sister used to believe in passion,
That no matter how old, you would still ask for a kiss.
I used to believe in love,
That I could find a world within someone
As they found one in me.
My brother too young to understand,
But old enough to remember,
Believed that anger was a result of love.
We took in everything,
And thought it was normal
To fall in love,
And to fall out.