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Note: unscrubbed.


I wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself.
I pick up the glass on the floor, take the frame down.
I rinse the blood off each shard, set them back inside the frame,
Trying to salvage what’s left of you.
Your frozen smile in the mirror, your glinting eyes.
I grew my hair out for you.
I loved the way you would brush it, like it was water, or silk, that was attached t your head.
You said, “a boy should keep his hair short.”
But a girl’s hair is long.
Your hair is long.
How am I to see you anymore if my own hair is not long?
I still remember the night when I came home early
And found you curled on the bathroom floor.
You were already spotted with blood,
Lyuing in a pool of it,
And half your face was crijson.
I kissed you, hugged you held you, dobbing,
But your heart had already stopped.
It took so long to grow my hair like yours, after that.
I need to see you again, my love, my sister.
Come back to me,
Let me see you, your rose lips and your fair cheeks,
But the person behind the glass is transforming.
No longer is it you;
A deranged, unkempt, person has appeared instead.
Send her away. Come back to me.
What has this cruel hag done to you?
You are wild-eyed, too, too pale,
Dark shadows circle your eyes,
Your lips are too dry and you aresobbing so much.
If I cannot see you again as you used to be, let me see you agin as I saw you last.
One little shard of glass can make such a ibg wound, beloved sister, my sister…

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