Here and Gone
My heart outside of my body.
we came to know you in May.
just a tiny pink plus.
a love like none we had ever felt.
a rush of joy,
hope,
and fear.
I sat in awe
of the way you grew,
one day this,
the next day that.
but we lost you in July.
your body gave up
and just like that,
you were gone.
the life once safe in my womb,
dead. lost. no more.
oh, our baby. our baby.
we long for you.
we ache for you.
your ten tiny fingers and two tiny feet
your nose that we did not get to kiss
oh, our baby.
it isn’t fair.
you were fast.
too fast.
here and gone.
like wind and rain.
a pain like none we had ever felt.
About the Creator
Madelyn Boughter
Writing to fill the void.
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More stories from Madelyn Boughter and writers in Poets and other communities.
What Is Hers
It had become hard to hold her hand, the colder her skin became. My mother, the very woman that breathed life into me, was coming face to face with death. The hard, wooden floor creaked beneath her weight as she writhed and flailed, her body hopeless in it’s final efforts to free itself from the pain. Her movements were jerky and unpredictable. Her legs twisted and her back arched. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth each time her lips parted to give way to a harrowing gurgle. My attempts at comfort were futile, but still, I brushed my free hand across her forehead, gently shushing, not unlike one would hush a crying baby.
By Madelyn Boughter3 years ago in Fiction
Tortured Soul
The soul careened blindly through a void where it scraped against the walls of a narrow tunnel, amassing a cumulative friction that created all the heat the devil would ever need to torment it. There was no light at the end, not even a fire. From the bottom a cold wind blew, and the clash of extremities spawned vapors of terror in the deadened and numbed appendage that was this strange, delirious, drunken consciousness.
By C. Rommial Butler7 days ago in Fiction
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