She finds you a few steps from the deck
A necklace of death is bound tight round your neck

A gasp and a scream are heard aloud
Around her mind forms a dark cloud

Your eyes are open, they look so dead
There's a purplish hue to your head

The rivers of blood didn't make you feel better
And now you couldn't be any deader

It seemed you were certain of what to do
And now your sister longs for you

She guesses you had to much to feel
And she's sorry she couldn't help you heal

She thinks back on every word she said
Saying, "that might be why you're dead."

You were her light, her truest friend
But your life has come to an end

She can't live this life without you
So she decides to be dead too

She scrambles up the stairs with hope
"Maybe there's another rope."

Her hand feels the frayed string
Finally she's found the thing

Tears run quicker down her face
And her heart begins to race

She sets back up the stool you kicked
Ready to feel the rope constrict

She take a breath and steps on up
The cuts on your arm weren't cleaned up

She reaches up behind her head
And touches the blade with a sense of dread

She draws the last cut she will ever make
Deep and without caution, feeling the ache

Blood dripping, she grabs the noose
She tries to stop herself, its no use

She moves the noose around her neck
She knows her life was just a wreck

She kicks the little stool away
Wishing you had chosen to stay

She struggles to take her final breath
But finding comfort in oncoming death

Her heart rate is beginning to slow
Your dead eyes are the last thing she'll know

Her final breath is a quiet sigh
This is her last and final goodbye

Her last heart beat is an empty thump
And her shoulders lightly slump

From you she could not be apart
So now you both have a still heart

It's 3:21 am.
I've shed more tears than I thought to be humanly possible.
My thoughts are racing as I try to sleep.
"Just end it. You don't deserve to be here," I tell myself.

It's 3:46 am.
My pillow's a tissue for my tears
And as I just try to close my eyes, I think of you.

You. My sister. I miss you more than the world.
I know I've said some things.
I know I've upset you.
I know I don't deserve you.

I know so much,
Yet I can't act on any of it.

It's 4:39 am.
I look around for a distraction from my own mind, all I can see is
You.



I miss you.
And I love you.

Two of my baby sisters get their period on the same day,
And I did not think
I could be so proud
Of two bodies for learning to perform a task they were bound to perform,
Nor so scared of what it meant for
The worry in my heart
Every time they walked out the door.
I did not think it was possible
To be so in love with a person -
to feel their fear and shame so keenly as if it were my own
In that moment of contrite confidence:
I need your help.
Is this how it feels to be a mother?
Mariana’s trench gaping with feeling so explosive it could topple buildings?
The instinct to protect and shield and teach,
To share the knowledge of a sisterhood that binds,
while praying that this would be the worst of their pain,
To see stretched out interminably before you their growing and leaving?
But above all the love that demands to make itself known,
That rails against the stall door and crashes feral onto the stage,
Heaving through your skin in a thousand pin ***** moments
That just about stop the tears from welling too noticeably,
As you take their hands and lead them to the bathroom door.

My sister has brown eyes. Some would argue that they are hazel, but I know better. Her eyes hold all the secrets of the earth and are as rich in color and depth as the land. Copper against soft caramel. A brilliant ring of gold.

My sister has freckles speckled across her skin like stars in the night sky. If you look hard and long enough you can find your favorite constellations dancing across her cheeks. A delicate blanket of brown sugar sprinkled on her face.

My sister has a smile that puts the Cheshire cat to shame. A smile that splits her face wide open. A smile that makes her eyes crinkle and her nose scrunch up. A smile so wide it makes the oceans look like meager ponds. A smile, always on the verge of laughter.

My sister has a laugh as loud and powerful as the thunderous sound of waves crushing against rock. A laugh that makes wrinkles worth having. I know my sister’s laugh like I know my own mind. Although I have never heard it.

My sister knows a girl she has never met before. A girl that has her eyes – but darker. A girl that has her freckles – but fewer. A girl that has her smile – but duller. Her laugh – but quieter. My sister knows a girl that shares her blood – but hers burns hotter. My sister knows me, although she has never met me.

pull up your bootstraps
wipe off your chins
our mouths may bleed
but these hearts
are iron armored
lets keep them out
just like we practiced

Tears and Blisters,
Co-conspirators,
Connected in body and spirit;
As only twin sisters can know.
Their attachments grow;
From first beat and breath,
Then blanket-warm *******,
Searching with eyes,
Reaching with smiles.

A double stroller sets their stage:
Two of these and those for every age.
One sitting, one pushing
The swing on the tree;
One feeling, one sensing
What either one sees.
One pitching, one catching,
Which one doesn't matter;
No visible signals to out the batter.
Like sparring partners in the ring,
Tin cans or mittens joined by string,
Or watching backs like tandeming.

Enigmatic in fact or fiction,
Like the Rosetta for hieroglyphics;
Communicating cryptograms.
The embodiment of the Venn diagram.

The mirror image can be deceptive,
Right seems left when reflected;
Unique and semi-mystical,
As snowflakes or ice crystals;
Yet tight as rings round trees.
Our tears and blisters,
Though twin sisters,
Will divulge individuality.

          (And I'll be round to play some doubles,
           You on one side // and me with your mother.
           Euchre, crib, tennis, golf;
           Or whatever you choose.
           The gloves are off.)