*Author's note: When I copy and paste my work from word I cannot get the spaces in-between the lines to go away, and it never creates the stanzas that I have in place, and it's so frustrating. Any help with this? Just so you know, it was suppose to be a new stanza every four lines.*
Slithering under the comforter,
sliding on my house shoes,
and tiptoeing to the bedroom door,
I am careful not to wake you.
As the door creaks,
I watch you to make sure dreamland
still envelopes you.
I don't even bother closing the door,
as I walk slowly as first down the
lavender carpeted stairs.
I can no longer see them beneath my
feet;
I just have to trust that they are
there.
As my belly bounces with each step,
I consider the earthquake that must be
happening inside.
Making it to the kitchen,
I quiet my insides with just the smell
of the hot chocolate.
Wrapping my hands around the warmth of
the mug,
I close my eyes and dream of what
she'll be like.
Of course, she'll have your light
blonde hair,
if any at all.
Of course, she'll inherit your
grey-blue eyes,
the ones that dance at my sight.
She'll be chubby and short,
loud and needy,
but what will she get from me;
not much, I hope.
I chance a sip of the steaming mug,
and rub the abdomen that has now become
her home.
I didn't invite her here, but her daddy
sure did.
How could I refuse those soft hands,
those gentle words?
I knew from day one I would be a
terrible mother.
So, why are we here in this place?
I know what she'll learn from me,
my anxiety, long nights of worrying and
drinking hot chocolate.
For a second, I close my eyes and try
to imagine our future life.
A messy living-room, home cooked meals
in the oven,
homework strewed across the table,
daddy and her in the back yard.
But, where do I fit in?
A messy bun, worn down make-up,
cleaning off the table, regretting her,
yearning for my other life,
the one that never got a chance to
blossom.
Before I can open my eyes,
a pair of strong, calloused hands rub
my shoulders.
“You're always so tense these days,
hmm”
A kiss on my cheek gives him time to
think.
“Can't sleep?”
A kiss on his cheek leaves room for the
growing distance between us.
How could he ignore my unhappiness so
easily?
“Oh you know, the baby's awake, so
I'm awake.”
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