"No ones ever even held her yet," I hear a mother cry over her new born in a tv show.
"Her," a word I hear all the time. But the one time, I'm half aware, and I'm taken aback. I fall slowly backwards in my mind traveling back in time to when I was little.
For the first time really realizing. "I am a her. I am someone's daughter. I am someone's baby."
So strange to think of myself as anything other than "I".
YOU ARE READING
Limerence
Poetry"Bumblebee: I wonder if you will still love me when I protect myself and sting." Started: 8/20/20 Completed: 10/18/21 My 7th poetry book.
