Sisterly affection

I still sometimes think back 

to my childhood friend who used to speak of her older sister

born blue and soundless

and who refused to breathe

because the weight of the world was just too much for her.

The child who instead of crying 

wheezed

and could barely move her head

with all the fluids filling it.

I always wondered what it must have been like

to be the one to pull the plug on your first born.

And so we would spend our summers together 

whispering well past midnight

about the older sister that the world had loved for only one hour.