brother
We
Never
Quite drew out
A plan or map;
We both just let life
Take us down a river.
Everyone thought us fickle,
Wishy-washy, unfixable,
But we were running free, taking what
We could of our short lives and living them.
The few things we had set in stone - oh,
My brother in all but our names -
Would be eroded away
As soon as we said them
Between each other,
Just memories
Of times where
We felt
Heard.
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