Most days,
you are all I want.

Your heartbeat next to mine,
feet kicking inside me. The first
moves you'll ever make. Just
for me. Just between us.
Most days.

Some days,
I make myself sick.

The sight of my stomach, so
flat and empty. My womb so cold
and dark without you there. The pain
is so real it forces me to my knees.
Some days.

Most days,
I dream about your life.

The colors I'd paint your room.
The music I'd play, the kind that's
supposed to make you smarter. The
stuffed animals that would clutter about.
Most days.

Rare days,
I hate you.

For teasing me with a chance
of life. For pushing away the man
I loved. As if any of it is your fault.
As if you chose to die before living.
Rare days.

Every day,
I think about you.

Endlessly.
Painfully.
Joyfully.
Lovingly.
Every day.

Non stop,
I love you

No matter
what happens,
this love will
never end.