I held her until she had to leave,
Four-thirty early morning in March.
We curled up on a couch and sat and silence
Just like we used to.
Just like before.
I fell asleep on her belly a while;
Heard in my mind those telltale kick-kicks.
A few months or so, give or take, maybe more…
Could’ve been real.
She was smiling as she stepped outside,
Climbed into one of those shitty-ass cabs.
Didn’t say much as I watched her go,
Didn’t admit that well of regret:
The cold cold damp in the pit of my stomach;
The little voice screaming for another chance.
I know it’s wrong. Don’t tell me it’s wrong.
This isn’t where we’re supposed to be.
Went back home and curled up in bed,
Wound tight ’round the only comfort I had:
Two commas lost in a sea of sheets,
Knowing not saying, listening to you breathe.
‘I fell asleep on her belly a while;
Heard in my mind those telltale kick-kicks.’
I choke. I sob.
You run through my hair.
All gone now. Won’t get it back.
Goodbye, Lillian Marie.
7 March 2007
© Charlie Pevensie