the silent swell of my belly
you are invisible, still, I imagine the lump above my hips
is the beginnings of you beginning to be.
You are no bigger than a speck, not even an embryo yet,
yet, you exist.
I know this, in the absence of blood,
in the frown upon the doctor's face
no congratulations for shame,
though in another context, this would be so great.
I run my fingers over the scar tissue
of where my naval ring used to be
I removed it so I could grow with you
although I know now that is impossible.
I think of the colour of your eyes,
I think of what I would call you
if you were mine.
But baby, you won't even know my name.
I play fiddle music to you,
pretending you have ears and can hear
your father played the strings of my heart
It is because he is a good man
I can't keep you.
I wish you could meet him.
You would have his expresso eyes and raven hair
He would make you laugh,
but he is but a child too,
as am I.
And baby, children don't make good parents.
Oh, I want you,
my body craves you, my breasts ache for you,
but you don't belong in my world.
I have you only to give you away.
Sometimes, I do dream of returning home
and showing the love that has grown inside of me,
but I know it would not be received as such.
And it would not make your daddy love me
anymore than it would make me whole.
Here, I lie and pray you grow, strong and safe,
that you don't feel the pains,
that you inherit my smile but not my face.
I know I am doing the right thing,
but it never felt so wrong.
Baby, please forgive me.
You never asked to be born.
I can only hope that for you
life will be kinder than it was to me.