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Alyssa Gaul Oct 3
I hug my mother most in the kitchen.
She reaches up to wrap her arms
around me, and I lay my head
on her shoulder. We breathe
together, relax into one another.
The oak wood under our feet creaks
with each shift of weight. The kitchen is

warm like her. Though that dead plant sits
in the window, we are full of life.
My mother’s fake green grapes and strands of
ivy weave above our heads;
our own personal jungle.
The red-brown cabinets and
bright yellow lights
shine down around us as we sway,
rubbing each others’ backs with a soft hum.

We fit together: mother, daughter.
Since childhood I have not been afraid
to run to her soft speckled skin and be held
by her, even when I was tall
enough to do the holding myself.
We have the same nose,
same smile,
same droop to our right eye.
Same tendency to accidents
like knife cuts
or oven burns
or trips over nothing.
Who am I
but a part of her?

My sister pads into the kitchen
on tiptoes— a habit she could never break
since a child. I see her quiet eyes
flicker downward,
see her scoot herself away from
my mother’s arms
see her close into herself
instead. She stares at the dead plant.

If her skin were a costume, she would
tear it off and never wear it again.
Instead of my mother’s nose,
she thinks she sees
my father’s stubble.
Not my mother’s dimpled smile
reflected back, but my
father’s Adam’s apple.
When we tell her she is
beautiful, she fiddles with her men-sized shoes.
We cannot convince her to
touch us when she is afraid to touch
herself.

We fit together: mother, daughter, daughter.
We sit at the island counter, playing
MarioKart on the kitchen TV,
talking about nothing really,
but to my sister it is
everything.
Our mother laughs like bells.
Who are we
but a part of her?
Chiara Sep 25
If I fall to my knees,
Mess everything up,
If I lose all hope
And am reigned by despair;
Will you be there,
Will you help me to stand?
Will you be strong for me
When I am all spent?
Or will you abandon me,
Like all of the others?
Will you give me your hand,
My friend, my sister?
Friends are just the most precious thing in the world...
hiba Sep 22
"that's the irony of loneliness, you see. all of us feel it." said ma with tears in her eyes.
with that, she picked up her bags and walked out from the world she had spent more than twenty years to build for us to a world of her own.
Cat Lynn Sep 21
The sister I loved and could grow close to
You've disappeared... I was accused
Don't know who you are... but you were someone I knew...
I have lost enough... but you were one thing I didn't want to lose
Too many wounds... but that exploded out of the blew
"You're over thinking..." But I knew the truth
How do you people feel now!? You've ignited my fuse!
Because now... She's not the person I once knew...
....I miss you Rachel... Please get well soon...
Aniseed Sep 20
Wrestling with this hourglass
Trying to bring back
All the times that we fought
And all the times I lost
With you

There's a lifetime of moments
We still had to share
But the dust of your bones
Settled before the dust
In your veins had a chance

These days I've lost all sense
Of what's worth it

I haven't listened to music
In a month.

I've never known a darkness like hers.
Not really.


You went in a hail storm
And I don't know if that's poetic
Or just the crescendo of what
Your life led up to.

You always were chaos incarnate.

A gun with a hairline trigger.

The only blank left in the barrel
Is the one taking space in my head
Since you left.
I never knew how many facets
There were to grief.
I don't think they make numbers that
Big.

There's a pinprick of nothingness
In the world
And most people pass it by-
But some eyes, they haven't
Let it out of their sight.

I have grey hairs you'll never see.

She told me it was nothingness.

The anger on my tongue died later
Than you,
But so help me,
Give me one more day to relive it
And maybe I won't feel so empty.

Just one more.

Please.
My younger sister passed away from a ******/fentanyl overdose some months back. This is a collection of thoughts that also I threw lines in from an old poem also about her.

I'm not over it.
Larry Potter Sep 18
You fiddle with colors and make them bloom
Like cherry blossoms in a dismal room
You stitch the tatters and make it work
Into a masterpiece of various quirks.

You see the world as styles and hues
An artist mixing her reds and blues
To create a lilac sky with a sun that sets
Into a supernova skyline where flamingos nest.

You must keep that passion and hold it dear
As it burns away many doubts and fears
If Midas' touch turns all things to gold
You make lifeless objects into stories told.
Lovely little sister
Inseparable friend
Through the sweet and bitter
You are here to the end

To me you are an angel in disguise.
Full of intuition, you are intelligent and wise.
You are my guiding star.You are my shining light.
You are my everything, what helps me through the night.

Always giving and helping through good times and bad.
You are the best friend I've ever had.
Through trials and tests, right by me you stood,
And you gave me your hand whenever you could.

You're in my heart and my prayers.
I'll wipe your tears, I'll get rid of your fears.
Whenever I have gone through some cloudy days,
You've been my sunshine in so many ways.

You are my heart.You are my soul.
You are my savoir,who makes me feel whole
If I had one wish, it would surely be
To give you as much as you've given to me.

You are many things, but most of all you're my sister and my friend
My gratitude for you has no end






          ©Words of a withering soul
I only wish you were my real sister
cupid Aug 20
why do you write me as a monster
you introduced him and i

you shaped me from those summer days
you threw me from my dreamy daze

you called me brother before i shed my skin
you intoduced me to my sins

i was pretty eyes and scared white lies
you were lost in wonderland

i never wanted to rule
i wanted to be a knight

my dreams of fighting for you faded
i cared not of queens

i became a traveler in the village
my steps jingled and i led the youth in laughter

you took back the throne you left for me

i want know why the tyranist writes me as a monster
he gave me my prince and my sins

i wanted freedom is all
i didnt want to fight anymore
i went back to read my sisters poems, i think they were very much about me
Ruhee Aug 7
She yelled to her voice
Drunk to her eyes
Slipped to her thighs,

She sung to the skies
Danced with thrives
To light up many smiles,

She walked with fears
Ran with tears
To make paths clear,

Today do we shine
In our beautiful lifeline
Through her blood and sweat that signed.


Fathima Ruhee
@inking__scribbler
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