I woke up this morning missing you.
I thought of us in the early hours, where we would slightly waken, intertwining our legs and holding each other close. I missed feeling comfortable against the warmth of your body.
I thought of our daughter, asleep in my belly,
and remembered the nights where I laid awake beside you as you slept. Your warmth was sinister, and I felt uncomfortable next to your body.
I felt relief when I distanced myself
onto our couch. You would find me a couple minutes later, still awake, and on my phone. Scolded into submission, I climbed back into our bed where you’d lock me in your embrace.
I cried myself to sleep,
quietly, trying to hide it from you. Your body felt hot against my skin, the air was heavy and suffocating.
I no longer felt love from your touch.
I only felt your betrayal.
I’m now awake in my bedroom.
Me, and our little baby sharing my body. The brisk air feels light. I think of her next to me, keeping her warm and safe as she sleeps. I start to feel comfortable in my bed, drifting to sleep as I dream about our love as mother and daughter.
- r.a.r.
