The due date still lives in me even when it is gone from the calendar. There are tiny things I bought that feel louder than furniture. I do not know where to put love when there is no first birthday to aim at. Everyone wanted to reassure me about later and I was only grieving this one life. It is such a specific pain to have no public memory for someone private and permanent inside you. I keep imagining milestones for someone who never got to have one. I am tired of people treating an absence like a replaceable slot.
The Wall
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