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From the warmth of her womb
to a wooden coffin
the cloth of her **** laid lifeless
Gone to soon, gone too soon

The pain was more than she could bare
after losing her only son
to the rough street of Chicago
where the kingpin rules
and the prosecutes parade
the dark corridors in dark suits

It's a mother worse nightmare,
when the law enforcements,
is train to **** and asked question after.

In fear of their lives,
however, two wrongs,
cannot equal to right.

Our judicial system defenses team toss
them back to the mean street
with only criminals intents on their minds
another careless proceeding gone wrong.

so, here I am
back to the crime scene
The universal therapy
a common, household medicine
crafted by collaborations of talents
and celebrated by siblings far
in distance, near in heart and mind.

If ever a religion existed
which all would embrace,
a movement to seize the fires
and conjoin hands
to spread and span,

If winds had a literal way to speak
to our simple minds,
if anything could drown us faster
than the rising expanse
of miles upon oceans
and make irrelevant
the laws of land, gravity and life...
Very much a work in progress.
 Jul 2017 Kristie Townsend
Mariah
i cannot seem to forget
that sentence.
it burned into my brain like a
cigarette,
left a wound inside me that does not seem to heal.
eyes opened as the
blistering
syllables seeped out through broken sobs
reducing me to nothing but ash.
when she spoke those
seething words,
it must have been like
acid
scaling up the sides of her throat and diving off the tip of her tongue.
it must have
seared
her skin,
scarred
the sanctity of her sanity.
tears swelled in her eyes,
spilled over,
filled mine.
i held her as she sobbed the way a newborn would;
the realization hit,
festered, and boiled
inside me.
her other half is gone.
there's no retrieving the
fragments
of his soul,
no joining his with hers.
no amount of love can fix her.
no amount of love can make her whole.
no matter what i do,
i cannot fill the
void
she's condemned to live with.
"my mom's twin brother passed away."
I bury the memories
Tell myself
The love faded long ago
Fight the shaking
Deny the flutter in my chest
And make sure
To Ignore the thoughts
But memories
Break through the cracks
My hands still tremble
My heart still skips a beat
And the thoughts emerge again
And I'm left
With a false hope
To go back and
Fix the things that went wrong
My shattered heart
Thinks it wants you
But I can't do it
This game is over
Even if we're not
Done playing
I can't forget
But I need
A replacement
For you.
With constant arguments they ended the day,
The silence had prevailed the dawn.
Her eyes were wet,
His mouth was shut,
But the silence spoke that night.

Every second they had spent there,
Turns to be witness of their love.
There was a humble piece of joy,
When she looked at him,
And she saw him smiling,
Nothing could stop her from smiling way back to him,
The arguments just now created a deeper love,
Affection which was already all set,
Care which was already there,
Turned in laughter of joy.
She couldn't resist laughing,
With tears in her eyes,
She laughed like she didn't care.

The silence was now filled with the sounds of giggling and laughter,
And them,
They seemed to have been back again,
On the road they have had started the journey,
With much love,
Some arguments,
Little fights,
Some offensive words,
A bit of play around the house,
Chasing each other till one had the side of mum,
Throwing things on each other,
And running all around the house with less of shame.

They had proved,
Nothing could replace their bond with each other,
They might have fought many a times in a day,
Or just once,
But they still cared for each other more than anyone else.
Siblings , they were called,
*Yet they too had a LOVE STORY.
No one can replace these siblings,
They are hard to keep up with,
Yet are important.
You may fight with them all day long,
Yet you would love them at the end of it.
For my brother, it meant everything
to stretch out and press
his face against the pane
of candy stretched crystalline.

To take the path away from father
for me one step away from
step-mother,
baking our dreams into
crumbs we left on the floor.

We’ll trace them back
to the place between
lost and found,
once we’ve fulfilled
our parts,
he’d always tell me.

But he doesn’t understand,
and honestly when does he,
that we’ve been doomed
from the start.

There is no Gretel,
to stoke the logs,
close the grate and latch
no heroine to fit the story’s need
there's only me

So when the witch comes back
she’ll ask
has Hansel truly grown fat?
a little pinch of the skin
an inadvertent test to see
which one of us should win?

It’s always an offering
always a suffering
always a surrender
of what makes me, she
and Hansel truly him

But I don’t mind
filling this role
I know it’s what I was made for
half baked like the crumbs
in a crummy oven
the real Gretel’s long gone
so her understudy will do.
If Mother could bake one daughter
why not try to bake two?

The witch will say it’s time
and ask me to reach back far
to find a warmth she can't see
it’s really not that odd
to hear the words escape me:
"why don't you try,
it's utterly exhausting
always having to hide"
and besides
I always desperately wanted
someone to show me

And I’ll even smile
as the crackle burns for just awhile
Hansel holding my hand
my pigtails askew.

The crumbs, our true
parents,
eaten in the leaves.
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