I imagine you tiny— two Q-tips long— blonde hair shiny, eyes bright as silver, mouth open in delight, full of giggles and diamonds. You tumble atop cotton ball clouds, bound through golden mansion rooms, sway to jazzy harp strains, flap your wee wings up up up over the rainbow. Yet each vision forces a fresh flood; tears spring up from the still-raw void you left in me.
Posted inPoetry
Embryonic Rhapsody
