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||45||: Sister Sister

Picture Prompt # 2
Photo by Luis Quintero

πš‚πš πšŽπšŽπš, πšŒπš›πšŠπš£πš’ πšŒπš˜πš—πšŸπšŽπš›πšœπšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—πšœ πšπšžπš•πš• 𝚘𝚏 πš‘πšŠπš•πš πšœπšŽπš—πšπšŽπš—πšŒπšŽπšœ, πšπšŠπš’πšπš›πšŽπšŠπš–πšœ πšŠπš—πš πš–πš’πšœπšžπš—πšπšŽπš›πšœπšπšŠπš—πšπš’πš—πšπšœ πš–πš˜πš›πšŽ πšπš‘πš›πš’πš•πš•πš’πš—πš πšπš‘πšŠπš— πšžπš—πšπšŽπš›πšœπšπšŠπš—πšπš’πš—πš πšŒπš˜πšžπš•πš πšŽπšŸπšŽπš› πš‹πšŽ.

Toni Morrison

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’•π’šπ’‘π’† 𝒐𝒇 π’˜π’π’Žπ’‚π’ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 π’…π’†π’†π’‘π’π’š π’‚π’…π’Žπ’Šπ’“π’†.
There is no conversation off the table cause we’re past the judgement zone.
You’ve done things where I shake my head and laugh with no comment or I let you know where I stand but my opinion is not law.
I’ve shared my thoughts in an unfiltered way because we’ve built trust over the years.

π‘°β€™π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 π’Šπ’π’•π’†π’“π’‡π’†π’“π’† 𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 π’šπ’π’–β€™π’“π’† π’‹π’–π’Žπ’‘π’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’ƒπ’“π’Šπ’…π’ˆπ’† 𝒐𝒓 π’‹π’–π’Žπ’‘π’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’ˆπ’“π’π’π’Ž.
Seriously, I’m here to listen and give you space to simply be you. I’m only asking that you continue to make room for me and turn the celebration music and keep the reality disco ball twirling. Not many people can do that, so that’s why you’re my favorite sister.

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 π’˜π’‰π’†π’ 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 π’ƒπ’π’–π’π’…π’‚π’“π’Šπ’†π’” 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’”π’Šπ’•π’–π’‚π’•π’Šπ’π’π’” π’ˆπ’ 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒓, π’˜π’‰π’†π’“π’† 𝑰 𝒍𝒆𝒕 π’Žπ’š 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 π’ˆπ’†π’• 𝒕𝒐𝒐 π’π’π’˜ 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒂 π’‡π’†π’˜ 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 π’ƒπ’‚π’Šπ’ π’Žπ’† 𝒐𝒖𝒕.
You’re the one that answers my late night calls and I realize you’re sleepy and I’m happy you answered because that’s how we flow.

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 π’˜π’‰π’β€™s π’†π’π’π’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’•π’†π’π’†π’… 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’˜π’‰π’β€™s π’“π’†π’‚π’“π’“π’‚π’π’ˆπ’†π’… 𝒉𝒆𝒓 π’ƒπ’†π’π’Šπ’†π’‡π’”. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 π’’π’–π’†π’”π’•π’Šπ’π’π’” π’˜π’‰π’š π‘°β€™π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’„π’π’Žπ’‘π’π’†π’•π’†π’π’š 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’”π’‚π’Žπ’†, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’”π’•π’Šπ’π’ π’‚π’”π’Œπ’” π’Žπ’† 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 π’˜π’‰π’‚π’• 𝑰 π’“π’†π’‚π’π’π’š π’•π’‰π’Šπ’π’Œ.
We’re hardly literal, sometimes spiritual with a mix of hood type symbolic vibe that speaks bluntly while rolling a fragrant rose blunt. That’s the type of sister sister you are.

We’ve prayed, we’ve affirmed another.
We’ve prayed, we’ve manifested new lives together.

I’ve grabbed your booty, you’ve slapped mine.
I’ve held your hand, you’ve embraced my entire mind.

You’re exactly why God makes sense.
You’ve set the tone of what each human being deserves in a life partner.
You are beautiful.
You are precious.
Just by existing.
I love you.
You’ll always be my sister.

With love,

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