Mother's Day
is around
the
corner.
And I feel
as if
I don't
belong.
I have the body
of a mother.
The stretchmarks
of a mother.
The heart
of a mother.
But my baby
is long
gone.
I'm a mother
to a headstone,
to a jar filled
with
ash.
No messy breakfasts
in bed,
songs sung
at church,
or crafts
made at
school.
My Mother's Day
will consist
of
cemetery visits,
what-ifs,
and
brief
tear-filled
memories of
you.
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