Even your tongue,
Craves for the taste of tears. . .

And you are crying again.
Misery is (you always believe) the only genuine
Emotion and sadness, the way of the real world.

She wouldn't have any of it.
Sage in the cubicle, healer of sorts.
Three years your junior. She makes soul-talk
Sound as prosaic as aeronautical engineering.

At the end,
Her warning:
‘Stop this right now.'

What will you say of your feeling
Living with a sister who terrorizes
Even manic depressions out of your mind?