I remember a time I wasn't ready

*PLEASE LISTEN TO THE SOUND WHILE YOU READ MY POEM*

~

This is how I remember it.

First, it was dark.

Then the hum, then a hand.

It didn't arrive; it seemed to have always been there.

Nestled between my naval and a nervous prayer.

No wrist, no arm.

Just a hand.

Warm as stolen light.

Gentle as a lie.

It began to move, slow spirals on my stomach.

Like it was like tuning a forgotten instrument.

Or unlocking a code only my solar plexus could hold.

Three fingers.

Two.

One~

Something sacred was about to hatch...

Until a whisper came,

Not from above...from inside.

"You should kill me."

That wasn't quite the words I heard... but I couldn't explain it to anyone, or else I'd be crazy.

The hand knew I wasn't ready for a child.

It was less a voice, more of a glitch in reality. Like my body had been keeping a secret from me, and it finally slipped...

When I woke up the next morning and took a test...I was clear~

Sometimes, the deepest wounds live in places no hands can reach...

...but even in the hollows where life once whispered, I still feel that hand—tracing edges of my soul, reminding me that some love stories are written in silence, and remembered by the shape they leave behind.

Even though I may never get to meet you...

That hand, my child, remains in the silence within me; it's an uneasy relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope everyone is well <3