my sister writes me lunch notes and tucks them into the smallest pocket of my aqua backpack

and sometimes i get teased when a smile blooms on my face

as my fingers tenderly opened the irregularly folded paper

and my eyes alight on each letter written with her favorite kind of pencil

“you are beautiful,”

a letter she wrote the night before a boy called me fat

“no one is perfect,”

she wrote along side a stick figure drawing of me

and i opened it when a “c” was entered into my grades

so today when someone asked me if i believed in magic

i said yes without hesitation

because if anyone knows magic

it is my little sister with magic inside of her veins

and fortune telling inside of her pen