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Literature Text
You live above the TV, high
on the shelf where you watch
a family you'll never get to truly
know from your perch inside that
cold, pink-metal resting place.
When I look your way, I wonder--
do our gazes lock? Do we share the
same insurmountable look of sadness from
wishes that will never be, dreams never
realized, may-have-beens never being?
Do we both pray for the past to
become a nightmare, to waken
one morning and find that we're
together again?
on the shelf where you watch
a family you'll never get to truly
know from your perch inside that
cold, pink-metal resting place.
When I look your way, I wonder--
do our gazes lock? Do we share the
same insurmountable look of sadness from
wishes that will never be, dreams never
realized, may-have-beens never being?
Do we both pray for the past to
become a nightmare, to waken
one morning and find that we're
together again?
On April 30th, at 29 weeks of pregnancy, I realized I hadn't felt my baby move. I went to the midwives, and they found no heartbeat. An ultrasound confirmed it; my baby was gone.
I was induced on May 1st. I wasn't given a birth certificate, nor a death certificate. It's as though our baby only lived in our minds; that she never really existed, she never really was.
We named her Rhiannon Joy, and I will miss her for the rest of my days. She was perfect--beautiful--tiny.
I was induced on May 1st. I wasn't given a birth certificate, nor a death certificate. It's as though our baby only lived in our minds; that she never really existed, she never really was.
We named her Rhiannon Joy, and I will miss her for the rest of my days. She was perfect--beautiful--tiny.
© 2012 - 2024 damina
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