Thinking of you is like taking a large gulp
of black
bitter
tea.

I cringe before I consume it,
Before it consumes me.
Before the acrid bite wallows in my stomach,
Churning a pall of disdain.

I never liked black tea.

I write about you
Not to breathe life into you
But to give myself a wide berth,
circling your truth.

I want to feel to solace in knowing I suffered
for a reason,
Though unbeknownst
Still—

As I carry your blood, your genetic coding,
The feet that look an identical version
to yours.

I tell myself I forget,
And for the most part,
I do.
I don’t know where you are,

What you're doing,
The state of your health,
Physical
and
mental.

Your thoughts, day to day
Empty musings,
What makes you laugh
What makes you
cry

If you even still do those things anymore.

I carry much more than your feet,
your hair,
your chromosomes;

Nuances and habits of my youth
Things I do or do not do
because of
you.

And yes,
I have secured my self worth
Long after you discarded me.

Yes, I'm doing fine

And maybe one day
I will have a little boy
That looks just like you,

A reminder of my past
of how I came into this world
of what is still
inside of
me,

That you will never
know.