33. Never Yet Born (Myshkin, 2020) · free verse

Poetry is the friend Who digs her nails into my throat And makes my scream less silent. All is well. Don’t think twice about me. Really. Did I go looking for it, Or did suffering come after me? Can’t it all be nice and heart-warming? There it was, unmissable— That elephant in my pantry, This beloved little shadow, Never yet born. I feel the intensity Of our imagined love, This heart’s deepest journey, Aching To be wrapped around her little finger. To have everything but not her (And I don’t have everything) Is pointless, now. Years of total freedom, Rich, textured memories, Troubled waters... I just want to play With the daughter I never had.