I know women with babies who’ve choked to death on bouncy balls
And babies who’ve suffocated under blankets
All I can do is wash my children’s footie pajamas,
Count the pairs of pants- is this enough for the week?
Give them some fruit, a protein,
Some crayons, some space.
I laid with my son tonight holding his hand
And I cried because I’d forgotten what it felt like to just BE in love with someone.
I miss his face so much already. It’s still here but I miss it like he’s grown.
Two shootings near our city this week.
A celebrity and his daughter have died just today.
I get so fucking sad but I don’t want to show it in front of you.
I get so sad and I want you to hold me but you’re busy and you don’t see my eyes telling you.
I miss being in love.
I’ve stopped dreaming of the past. I just dream in patterns, puzzles. I wake up confused, then relieved.
I dream about neglected fish tanks with fish that have survived years without my care.
The other night, there were bunnies. Two adults, three babies, in a fish tank.
I love one of our cats in the way I love my kids- where my breath catches in a way that’s almost like crying, but it’s just from joy. He lays his little chin on me. Falls asleep purring in my arms.
I want things to be so much simpler.
I’ve made lists and schedules. I have plans for everything. I’m married to to-do’s. But I haven’t scheduled in crying.