She denies each year that creeps into her fragile bones as careless creases inch around her eyes and we shelter her, carry her and care for her; calm her when she weeps, stroke her hair as she sleeps and breathe shallow as we hope she makes it through another year, month, week--
She never wanted the fetus now flushed into the void of all unwanted things; rejected from a life it could not choose.
It would have been just another crutch she never used.
I wonder if she shrugged as she lost you, tiny one? Shrugged as you held on tight...
You existed then were gone like a hiccup, like a dream, so real- until eyes re-enter light.
She drowns herself in percocet and loose joints and she'll forget you too soon;
stamp you down into the mud of memories squished into the back of the room.