Missed by Cleo Hanaway-Oakley

Jun 19, 2019

Content warning: miscarriage


I thought you were something
But you are nothing.
Not nothing, but not the thing
I want you to be.

You’re a heavy absence,
Blackness on the screen.
Languid, yet visible void,
Sac within a sac.

Dotted lines mark the place
You should have been.
A pirate’s map marks an empty
treasure chest.

Time tussled with space:
Five, six, seven, eight …
X by X millimetres.
Sure of your dates?

I thought you were coming
But you are going.
Not going, but coming
Away from me.

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