How Ironic, Her Angel Tattoo
My sister again, briefly,
not distrusted or distanced,
just loved. I missed her,
wondered how the mauve
cotton candy stuck still in an almost
midnight sky, the midtones low,
early bonds in high contrast,
our present, unreal, more of a liar
than memory. Her cherub smile,
only some hours high in my mind again,
how she mended her wings.
– Melanie Henderson
A Note from Mel 
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