The Loss

Bianca Hoops, Student Writer

Losing a baby sister is like being dehydrated

The sound of “sorry for your loss” scrapes my skin with egg

Lots of trees are sacrificed to dissolve the flood pouring off my face


To remember my hair pulled, covered in formula puke and holding this creation

Listening to ‘Fly me to the moon’ while she stops breathing

People draped in black with body covered in pink roses

The sun burning our skin over the disintegrated bodies underground


My nose clogged with mucus called a stuffy nose

The garbage filled with disgusting tissues that were yucky

Dreams constantly reminding me she is no longer with us or dead

Memories following me considered, stalking me

The infant, baby is gone