i lost my grip on you
when we spilled
our milk and honey.
we learned that
‘till death do us part’
are hollow words,
and that blood
is thicker than water.

we put oceans between us.
shed our layers -
tissue for tissue,
pain for pain.
transported and transpired.
from roots to leaves - we water,
and meet at the intersection
of lines, lives and daughters,
to our ancestors - they watch us.
we exchange sis for cess

when our need to be right consumes us,
we get lost in the narrative,
muddle fact and fiction
in order for us to play the heroine.
when all the while
you were my oxygen -
my lifeline.
and by cutting you off
i dried out my veins
and eclipsed the heart.
— bloodlines | inheritance

Alexxa Walker and Kheanna Walker
Self-Portrait
Highlands, Scotland
April 16, 2022