"Me" used to be "we."

Now all that's left is a memory.

My skin, it aches from no longer having a seed to sow,

My chest, it sinks from no longer needing to grow.

"Me" used to be "we."

My hand falls as it glides across a space you once called home,

A place so sacred and heavenly that only an ultrasound could have shown.

"Me" used to be "we."

My heart, my head tell me I'll never be the same,

But friends and family no longer call me by that lovely new name.

"Me" used to be "we."

Without you here, the changes in my life are now only in my head,

With dreams of you, whom I never knew, while I lay here in my bed.

--I wrote this tonight as something just kept tugging at me to write this. 💛