my sister is a mess,
a slutty stained dress
with lipstick on the hem.
a map of all her men,
smudges where their hands
have been.
my dreams,
once seemed fulfilling
like a nine month stretch.
but now they seem intimidating
and I question them.
And a question needs an answer,
like an uneasy heart needs a test.
while slutty dresses need attention
and a whore needs plenty of rest.
written sometime in spring 2014
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