by Heather Carnaghan
All of the broken promises of this beautiful and awful date are heavy in a place in my heart where, now exists only stolen hope. Who I was and who you would have been died that day and left me with all of the parts of motherhood that the drug of a newborn’s smell subdues. How cruel it seems that I also have this love that is so deep that I will take all of these awful things if they are all I am meant to have of you.
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August 2018
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