Sunny. Cloudy.

I wonder if my daughter is angry with me.

I wonder if she understands what she did to me.

Besides make me vomit and carsick,

she empowered me.

She was so beautiful.

And although I was carrying her inside of me,

she looked just like her daddy.

I had her picture once, too.

But her facial features hadn’t developed yet

so what I saw

nobody else could see

Because she visited me

In my dreams.

And what a dream she was.

Fair-skinned, but her smile was above par.

Now, I’ve felt pain before

physical, mental,

but the pain I felt that rainy September day was new.

As if the one thing I’d searched for

and longed for

had been found

and lost all in the same day.

I wonder if my daughter knows how her mother feels about her.

I wonder if my daughter knows how her father feels about her.

I wonder how my daughter’s skin would feel.

As much as I try to replace that love

and erase that pain

and hide that truth,

my daughter felt everything I felt at that time.

But now she doesn’t feel anything anymore.

And neither do I.

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