monica-olivia - Hello Poetry

Was it worth it? Only 3 weeks old and I have a name. Embryo. Week 4 I’m hard at work creating my umbilical cord and basics of my body. By the end of this week I’m the size of the period at the end of this sentence. Not the one you just missed. Week 5: my heart is beating… you’re still drinking. Week 7: you’re sick. And it’s not the hangover you thought I was. Week 9: congratulations! You have the honor of hearing my heartbeat, like you care. You’re still on some strangers couch with the strong sent of smoke on your sweater. I’m the size of the olive in your martini from this morning. Week 10: New name. Fetus. I finally look somewhat human...My brain is trying to create 25,000 neurons every minute but you’re making it so hard mom… Week 11: my vital organs are all there. So my risk of defects should be decreasing and become less susceptible to outside influences... so much for that Your headache? That’s me. You still don’t know the pain I’m in... Week 12: I can swallow. Good thing I’m not actually using my lungs. Unlike yourself. “Oh, just another drag... What’s the harm?” I guess you never learned the golden rule. So here we are, week 21. I’m the size of your beer. Two weeks later… My lungs aren’t ready... 11 ½” I weigh the size of the Harry Potter book I imagine you reading to me. And I am as long as one too. I hope you enjoyed all that sleep you have been able to have... I’m coming... Child birth classes? Didn’t even cross your mind. And I’m losing more and more of mine. Just keep inhaling that precious smoke. My brain looks like the mold in the back of your fridge. I felt so alone before, but at least I was in my own space. Somewhat protected. Well here I am, in this world already addicted. You raised the stakes. So tell me mom, was all that fun worth it?

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Sep 18, 2010

Sep 18, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC

monica-olivia

Isolation.

Was it worth it? Only 3 weeks old and I have a name. Embryo. Week 4 I’m hard at work creating my umbilical cord and basics of my body. By the end of this week I’m the size of the period at the end of this sentence. Not the one you just missed. Week 5: my heart is beating… you’re still drinking. Week 7: you’re sick. And it’s not the hangover you thought I was. Week 9: congratulations! You have the honor of hearing my heartbeat, like you care. You’re still on some strangers couch with the strong sent of smoke on your sweater. I’m the size of the olive in your martini from this morning. Week 10: New name. Fetus. I finally look somewhat human...My brain is trying to create 25,000 neurons every minute but you’re making it so hard mom… Week 11: my vital organs are all there. So my risk of defects should be decreasing and become less susceptible to outside influences... so much for that Your headache? That’s me. You still don’t know the pain I’m in... Week 12: I can swallow. Good thing I’m not actually using my lungs. Unlike yourself. “Oh, just another drag... What’s the harm?” I guess you never learned the golden rule. So here we are, week 21. I’m the size of your beer. Two weeks later… My lungs aren’t ready... 11 ½” I weigh the size of the Harry Potter book I imagine you reading to me. And I am as long as one too. I hope you enjoyed all that sleep you have been able to have... I’m coming... Child birth classes? Didn’t even cross your mind. And I’m losing more and more of mine. Just keep inhaling that precious smoke. My brain looks like the mold in the back of your fridge. I felt so alone before, but at least I was in my own space. Somewhat protected. Well here I am, in this world already addicted. You raised the stakes. So tell me mom, was all that fun worth it?

21

I love the way you walk I love the way you stand Oh how I wish I could hold your hand. I love the way you look I love the way you see, Your awkwardness is so beautiful to me. I love your jeans and how you wear them I swear you are sent from heaven. As you walk to your english class, Oh how I smile as you pass. I see you look, all around, Is it for me or should I frown? I don't understand you Hardly ever, Away from you I'd be, Almost never. The most confusing thats for sure. Yet strangely it makes me, Love you even more.

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Aug 11, 2010

Aug 11, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC

monica-olivia

You Will Never Know.

I love the way you walk I love the way you stand Oh how I wish I could hold your hand. I love the way you look I love the way you see, Your awkwardness is so beautiful to me. I love your jeans and how you wear them I swear you are sent from heaven. As you walk to your english class, Oh how I smile as you pass. I see you look, all around, Is it for me or should I frown? I don't understand you Hardly ever, Away from you I'd be, Almost never. The most confusing thats for sure. Yet strangely it makes me, Love you even more.

19

Simple beauty Just sittin' in the sandbox Rain starts comin' down rush under the rim of the old schoolhouse sunlight over powers rain turns into mist at last the simple beauty arrives.... my rainbow.

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Jul 29, 2010

Jul 29, 2010 at 11:52 AM UTC

monica-olivia

"Six Year Old Beautiful"

Simple beauty Just sittin' in the sandbox Rain starts comin' down rush under the rim of the old schoolhouse sunlight over powers rain turns into mist at last the simple beauty arrives.... my rainbow.

9