Like a Sister

His little sister was crying.
He looked out for her and
cared for her well being.
She wasn't unattractive.
She wasn't his sister.
A chance meeting that first day
in a crowded seminar:
Indian relations of the Modern World.
He walked over and said hello
but did it with overt intentions.
Her name tag attracted him,
like a moth to the flame.
Blame the name.
After some time, he revealed to her
the name of his first love.
It was the same.
She knew that was big for him;
he kept intimacy to himself.
However,
he was taken...
Girlfriend, possibly a wife.
Non-specific.
He took his relationship seriously,
like a cautious Wall Street planner;
nothing was a fluke.
So by default, she became his sister,
which was not a demotion of her worth.
She could still be cherished,
if not enjoyed.
Eventually she wondered why he had
spoken to her in the first place.
Didn't he have enough friends?
Why did he feel the need to tie her
with platonic rope?
Wasn't she beautiful?
Didn't she matter?
It pained him to see her tears,
because he knew his mistake.
And like a real brother, he ached to
beat up the one who made her cry,
so he punched himself in the stomach.
It was a pain he had to endure.
Incest was not an option
in the moral code of mateship.

Gerard McMann - Cry Little Sister (Lost Boys soundtrack)