This is about me.

This is about me.
This is about feeling too deeply.
This is about loving too hard.
This is about wanting something too badly.
This is about the taste it leaves in your mouth.
This is about swallowing it.
This is about living.
This is about rushing on hot coals.
This is about tripping over a chance.
This is about a scar from hot concrete.
This is about being ripped open by my heart.
This is about the dead places inside me.
This is about sprinkling water on a frying pan.
This is about watching it dance.
This is about flecks of broken womb.
This is about trees dead for winter.
This is about the gray field of tiny, halted stumps.
This is about growing them for slaughter in the springtime.
This is about angels at night in the corner of the room.
This is about slivered hallucinations.
This is about lying naked on the bathroom floor.
This is about the roadmap of my body.
This is about a beautiful night of laughter.
This is about coming home to candles lit.
This is about cradling nothing.
This is about pouring hot wine in an open wound.
This is about praying to nothing to dream of something.
This is about phantom kicks.
This is about a belly still swollen.
This is about the terror of waking up each morning.
This is about being so lucky.
This is about feeling so afraid to hurt you.
This is about staying out too late.
This is about wanting so badly to be beside you.
This is about the silent stricken look on your face.
This is about not caring if you've made it this far.
This is about having a girl I call sissy.
This is about her kissing your cold cheek.
This is about a perfectly still projection.
This is about a heart that has ceased to beat.
This is about the first time I saw your face in white and black.
This is about you knowing my voice.
This is about babies feeling pain.
This is about the first time you never called me mama.
This is about "getting out".
This is about "getting over it".
This is about the eyes I knew were blue.
This is about dark hair I will only see glued to manila paper.
This is about baby feet inside of me.
This is about the baby knees I never knew.
This is about "Baby's First Christmas".
This is about the lifespan of butterflies.
This is about the locket I grab when I think of you.
This is about making the three of us my labor of love.
This is about seeing you trot into her room.
This is about seeing you walk out bewildered.
This is about snuggling you at night.
This is about listening for your cry in vain.
This is about time travel.
This is about present wrapping.
This is about dropping pine needles.
This is about Halloween candy.
This is about grieving alone at night.
This is about the way you hold me in the crook of your neck.
This is about quilts with your name on them.
This is about being your sweet pallbearer.
This is about being so proud of my perfect girl.
This is about our beautiful rosebud baby.
This is about starving to death.
This is about oozing deep dark red.
This is about my head on kitchen cabinets.
This is about never being the same.
This is about grasping for independence.
This is about seeing the future in a greasy skillet.
This is about a day without lavender suicide.
This is about a white dress stained always with your blood.
This is about breasts full with milk to feed you.
This is about touching feet at night.
This is about feeling you inside me.
This is about everything.
This is about nothing.
This is about green glass shattered over my crimson life blood.
This is about keeping you warm and full of love.
This is about your sleeping bones in the cold cold ground.
This is about knowing our picture lies with you there.
This is about all the stories I read to you.
This is about the places you'll never go.
This is about giving you life forever.
This is about a greater pain.
This is about some god needing angels.
This is about things happening for no reason.
This is about "the last mystery in obstetrics".
This is about meant to be, my baby.
This is about me not meant to be your mommy.
This is about my dead heart melting with my heavy killing coffin stomach.
This is about the way I love you when you touch me.
This is about your brave heart.
This is about wishing you would shrink to a size I could hold.
This is about being real.
This is about dropping to my knees on the floor.
This is about crying out for mother nature to take - me - too.
This is about knowing each day is another without your baby lips.
This is about knowing what a beautiful loving woman you would have been.
This is about not seeing you dance with your daddy.
This is about you missing a dance with your daughter on your wingtips.
This is about looking in your face and seeing her.
This is about being my own person.
This is about being broken open again.
This is about our tiny sage green dollhouse family.
This is about forever the rest of my life.
This is about choking on how much I love you.
This is about not caring if you've read to the end.
This is about me.

Sweeter more beautiful, literary poems coming soon, I promise.  And I'm sorry if anyone has read this one before.  I know it's a pageful..