In the hours after your
birth I can’t shake the
cold that passes through
this recent hollow. I didn’t
know that you had been
warming my blood all this
time, that I would know
such a drastic drop in
temperature without you
even with you asleep on
top of me that entire first
night and having already
lived decades without so
much as a sheet. How am
I so unaware that I would
be incomplete from the
outset and already your
outgrown gowns make
me mourn?
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