I can smell  the fresh paint,

thinking it should be blue

for the future small you.

I rub my belly watching for growth

of the child you put inside of me by force.

Of course not to be out done,even by

yourself, violently you took my child away

kicked him from my womb.

Laughing as the blood ran down my thighs

in tiny trickles  like sinister kisses,

from a lovers soft lips.

And when I awoke,

I found I had not escaped

and yet my small babies fate

lay in a pool of blood

in the already ruined rug.

We laid in the grass
touching, kissing, holding.

In the background there was a song,
you dedicated it to me.

Little did you know that the major chords lift,
and the minor cords show the depths of melancholy.

Maybe you should have dedicated a different melody.