I'm supposed to be an artist.
I'm supposed to be a writer.
Everything that has happened to
me I have taken
and made it kiss my *******
***.
But this I can not make into
art.

I can not take this memory
and deface it with my hate
and pain.
I did this to myself.
This was a decision I made,
sat in the shower,
and cried for so many
hours thinking about.
This was not forced upon me.
But with her expected
delivery date arriving,
I want to make this some
beautiful piece I can
look back on.

Not cold hands and instruments
put inside my body
pushing and pulling.
I can not make this art.
Staring at the clock and
watching the seconds tick
by to distract myself from
the pain.

I can not count seconds
to forget her now.
I can not count hours
To forget the suction sound.
I just...
I can not.
Make this art.

The reality of my abortion
it too cold and hard
and real
to make this into metaphors,
into some abstract
piece about how life
was taken out of me.

I didn't cry that day.
I didn't cry that week.
But when out of habit I went
to rub my stomach
I flinched. Pluto was gone.

I could feel her sweetness
and strength. I could feel
that I was not ready for
such a strong love,
I was not ready to look
my child in the eyes
and know that I could not
take care of her.

I want to honor her memory
for the strength that she has
passed on to me.
I named her Pluto for she was
such a small planet to me.
A sweet companion to guide
me through the pain that I was
enduring.

I don't think I was supposed
to have her.
I like to think that her
purpose was to make me
stronger. To make me a better
person.

I haven't dropped out of high
school yet because I want a good
life for any child I decide
to care for. I haven't ended my
life yet because
then her's would be a waste.

She grew inside of me for 3 months.
Caused me some intense nausea
and cramps.
She was strong, and bowed down for
no one, stretching my body apart.

I cry for her often.
And I don't believe in much.
But I know in whatever after life
or reincarnation that I may have,
I will see her again.
I will hold her someday.

But for now, getting a tattoo
of my little planet
in the palm of my hand will
have to do.
She had a beautiful soul,
a beautiful burning will.

Maybe I can make this art.
Maybe I can make her smile
knowing that I will always love her.

If he said it was right
to wake in the morning & wish to go back to bed.
To be so full of life,
then so full of these feelings for whom I've never met,
only in death,
I'm not sure if they were even a person yet. They must've been; I created it.
It was half of me and half of him, & I think I wanted it.
I've labored a shrivel of death,
far too many times to try to forget.
Back and forth in my head.
Do I regret it?
If you never let it take a breath,
then why is it dead?
That's what he said.

6:15 am*                04/28/16


I’m sorry.

I just wanted to start out by saying that.

I should have fought harder for you; I should not have let myself be persuaded into letting you go when I knew I didn’t want to. The truth is, I was scared- I was scared that I wasn’t going to have enough. That I wasn’t going to be enough. I know now that I was wrong. I would have been strong and I would have been okay and I would have loved you more than anyone could have imagined. Even if it was hard I would have worked through it. But, I doubted myself, and that’s where I failed you.

I could just blame everyone else around me and say “I didn’t have a choice,” but to me that’s just taking the easy way out and avoiding my faults to try to put my own mind at ease… but it would only make me feel worse. I knew I had a voice and I knew I had the choice to speak up and use it but I didn’t. By the time I realized that, it was too late and my fight wasn’t heard. I tried… but it took me too long and it was already happening and I couldn’t stop it.

…

You would have been so loved. Everyone would have spoiled you rotten. The kids (my siblings) would have been especially ecstatic to have a new baby around. My mom would have been happy to be a grandmother (as I’m sure your dad's mother would have been as well). My grandparents would have welcomed you as a great grandchild and you would have been worshiped by my grandpa who absolutely loves babies. I’m sure your dad would have been upset for a while I was carrying you, but when you actually got here he probably would have been completely different about it. He would have had no choice but to love you, too.

And I would have loved you. I did love you. I didn’t even know you yet and I loved you already. I still love you and I always will. I know it’s easy to say “I’ll never forget you” and then stop thinking about it and move on and forget- but you were such a big part of me, even in the short amount of time that you were mine, that I won’t ever be able to forget you. You are a part of me now and you’re here to stay, even if you aren’t physically here.

You will always be loved.

You will always be missed and you will always be remembered.

R.I.P 04/25/16.

(never forget: 11/26/16)
                           ^Your birthday.

Come back, coffee eyes

I need to tell you the story about the blue bowed baby
I boiled up in blood
and never got a chance to see smile
because I wouldn't let her into the world long enough to flash in my memory
I couldn't handle giving her an identity

Come back, coffee eyes
and hear why I hate ***
why I walk around undressed
so no one really wants me

pretty boys with gentle tongues trick you with their nervous sweats
they say they'll hold your hand
but they're gone before you're done lifting up your hair
wondering how life got this way

We live in a world
Where a size ten model
Is considered
“Plus Size”.

A world where women
Are prudes for wearing too much clothing
And ****** for not wearing
Enough.

A world where men
Are afraid to talk of their abusers
Because they’re afraid of being
Laughed at.

A world where the color
Of your skin makes you
A criminal, or a
Terrorist.

A world where your
Mental illness is only sympathized
If it’s a genetic
Disorder.

A world where women
Are criticized for wanting to
Be able to control their own
Bodies.

And a world where
Nobody cares about your suffering
Until you’re already
Dead.

Child, your cry reminds me of my pain
So intense, fruitless and without any gain,
In my mother's womb, I bled my last
Memories of me aborted angers me to lambaste.

I hoped to taste the joy of being born
And caressed like any other child's horn,
But mother did you ever love this child
To have denied him access to your guide?

Hope you gave me when you thought to bare this child
Little wonder I choose a mother like you as my guide,
What then went wrong to have my blood shed?
So innocent a child you gave me no chance to be loved.

On you alone, I placed all my hope and trust
In your womb I thought to avoid rust,
But mother did you hate me that much your own son
To have a harmless child suffer the scorch of abortion?

Mother, you gave me no reason for my crime
To have loved and chosen a mother like mine,
With your hands you murdered your own blood
Oh mother, why the cruelty on this child whom you never did curd?

This world is corrupt
Children murdered everyday
it's time we end it

choices

I know we are too young.
I know we have no home.
How did it get to this?
I think of her as young women.
I hear her whisper.
I love you Daddy.
I see her getting married
dressed in white.
Me older and
a wistful tear falling.
I wait in the car park
of the clinic
you appear out
of the double doors.
Pale and older
your eyes red.
This was to solve
all our problem's.
But the grief hits me
like never before.
and I know this problem
will never leave my heart.