Stay

Sometimes,

On nights,

Insomnia and I

stay up and share secrets,

We talk about

the times I met

the spirits of my

future children

when I lived in the

house on

Mockingbird Lane.

I never felt their

hands on mine

when they took the bottles

from me,

or their fingertips

graze my cheeks

when they wiped tears from

wounds they would see reopen

from time to time

after they were born.

I’ll tell you what though,

sometimes,

when my pain still gets

stuck between my rib cage

(We can’t blame her though

It’s been her hiding place all this time),

I swear,

if the cats aren’t meowing

and the heater isn’t running

and it’s just quiet enough,

I can still hear them

whisper,

“Stay Mommy.”

Next

Previous