You never got to fully develop your little body.
But I can picture every detail of your perfectly formed features
As clearly as if you were before me.
You never got to wriggle and squirm in my belly.
But I can still feel you.
A hollowness inside that cannot be filled.
You never got to know my touch or arms holding you tight,
But I caress the memory of you with love,
Hugging my pillow at night, wishing it was you.
You never got to breathe and fill your tiny lungs.
But I take deep breaths to soothe the ache in my heart.
Sighing, for what should have been.
You never got to hear my voice or know me as your mother.
But I speak to you often and the person in the mirror
Wears traces of you, etched in the lines of her face and on the curve of…