Last night he called again, forcing me to drop everything.
I listened to his voice, causing pain to melt my heart down.
He spoke his words of sorrow, making my eyes swell up with tears.
He asked if he could “come byâ€, giving me incite to what was coming next.
He told me that she was too young to die, leaving me contemplating life and death.
He told me of his baby sister, the girl who had everything.
He told me how he loved her, although they fought constantly.
He spoke of how they were finally beginning to appreciate one another.
He spoke with words of torment and anguish seeping through his broken heart.
The love of my life is sitting right before me, eyes full of tears.
In my head thoughts ran through, thoughts of his sister’s death.
He told me how they found the disease; it wasn’t a well known one.
The doctors he talked to called it “Long QTâ€, but he just called it heart failure.
His baby sister’s heart stopped at the age of 14.
He spoke of death being absolute.
He explained his theory of ‘everyday above ground being a good one.’
He spoke of this immense pain lurking over his body.
The thoughts of his sister racing throughout himself, tracing the memories of her from his fingertips down to his toes.
And through all of this I listened.
When he called me I knew what he needed.
He calls every now and again.
And each time I drop everything to listen.
The worst is when he doesn’t call for awhile.
I know not how he’s doing,
Or if everything is all right.
I don’t know which is worse,
When he calls or when he doesn’t.
Because it hurts each and every time.
