May 16, 2012
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She stands, tall and strong, her hair a river behind her.
The very picture of perfection, glistening eyes
Laughing eyes.
She sprawls on the ground, her legs a tangle on the tile
Her hands fumbling for the counter
Her eyes, vacant and hungry
She lies in a grave, faded but lovely
Pale white as the moon
Eyes blank and dead
They say things like “overdosed”
“Some crackwhore, addict”
A body, silent and still
The words just don’t match up.
My sister has laughing eyes
Green as the grass
She lies under

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