Oscar

She was never the same–
there was a vacancy in her
enigmatic gray eyes.
Death had greedily collected
her happiness,
potential,
vitality,
along with the life of
her brother,
twin,
best friend.
She became solitary,
withdrawn.
By rote she completed
what became mundane aspects
of a previously brilliant life.
Each day spent in a fog
until nighttime
when she would go to his bed–
curled up;
as though completing a puzzle
created in the womb.

I’ve been trying to write the story of Oscar and Alphonse for two decades now, so much of this has been taken from previous attempts to describe the lives of the close, ill-fated twins. In early childhood, Oscar proved herself to be a temperamental tomboy, which earned her the unflattering nickname that would stick throughout the remainder of her life. Her brother Alphonse was gentle-tempered, frail and prone to illness. His death in their early teens permanently altered the trajectory of her life. What happens to them has yet to find its way on paper. 

 

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