Phantom Life

It’s foolish to mourn for things that never were

to place a hand on your belly, and grieve your empty womb

its silly to shed tears over children who never existed

to tear up over imaginary names.

 

I have a house in my head

its on land I’ve never stood on,

under sunsets I’ve never watched

and stars I’ve never gazed at.

 

In this place is a husband who loves me,

cherishes me, priorities me

we dance at night in the rain

and snuggle up under blankets in front of the fire.

 

And as the new moon rises

reminding me again of my empty womb,

unlovable heart, and phantom life

its foolish to cry over things that don’t exist.

 

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