A Letter To Amira
It's 5am here and you are drunk on white Russian's asking me if I am broken?
Now's way too early for painful memories and sweet nostalgia,
Too early to think of lost friends and broken hearts.
When I was a child I used to hold my sister in my arms, protecting her from the psychological abuse of having two warring parents use our home as an epic battleground.
The first taste I had of loss was when my grandfather Antonis had died.
My parents broke his heart when they divorced and he spent t