Suicide To Them Is An Act Of

I Kiss Him As The Train Slides Into Unlit, Uncertain Land. I Kiss Him For As Long As I Want, For Longer Than I Should, Given That My Brother Sits Three Feet Away From Me.

His Eyes Search The Crowd Until They Find My Face. My Heartbeat Lives In My Throat; Lives In My Cheeks. "i Still Don't Understand," He Says Softly, "how She Knew That It Would Work.

He Told Me Once To Be Brave, And Though I Have Stood Still While Knives Spun Toward My Face And Jumped Off A Roof, I Never Thought I Would Need Bravery In The Small Moments Of My Life. I Do.

This Is Bizarre," I Say. "i Think It's Beautiful," He Says. I Give Him A Look. "what?" He Laughs A Little. "they Each Have An Equal Role In Government; They Each Feel Equally Responsible. And It Makes Them Care; It Makes Them Kind. I Think That's Beautiful.

I Like To Think I'm Helping Them By Hating Them. I'm Reminding Them That They Aren't God's Gift To Humankind.