A tiny flickering spot, a darkened hushed room. That is how I know you.
That is all I will ever know of you.
I find myself thinking around this day, your due date, when I am changing diapers, reading Goodnight Moon, rocking the sweetly heavy weight of a sleeping baby, I would have done this for you. I would have done this for you.
I would have done all these things for you.
You are the silence, the catch in my voice. The ghost in the gray of an ultrasound screen, never to fully materialize. Instead, we meet in the edges of my life, you as unable to stay as I am unwilling to let you go.