To My Half Sister


He is a summary.
A synopsis of aegis.
The icky reality of a nuclear brochure.

He is a glass never full.
We drown ourselves for years in his shortcomings
only to find that they are our own.
They are inescapable.
We drown. We are drowning.
We flocculate like backwash
and rise only to find the ullage of love.

You and I,
Plantigrade.
But you know—
the acuteness of the pain
I did not deserve
to feel into existence.
You know because it is your own.

You and I
Is only half real.
But the corners of our lips
carry your cheekbones to my eyes
and your sweat smells just like
mine.

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