I once cursed a friend for not caring. She laid her hand on my growing belly and told me I was lying about the pain. Stretch marked marred my flesh and yet she begged me to cry. Said it would help if I just downplayed my emotions.
Feelings hurt the baby you see.
The baby feels it.
She felt that I was lying about the pain. Said it would go away as she stroked my aching breast. The one dripping milk upon her dust filled carpet. Tugging away only brought her closer. Her words like ember upon my burning flesh.
A child lay dying inside of me and yet she said it was worth it.
I should be happy with the gift given to me. The chance to explore feelings once more. My happiness at being with child destroyed its very soul.
There should be no pain, at least that is what she is telling me.
Running her hand along my slit as I force the heart from my body. Grey tones and broken bones but I should feel no pain. It isn’t worth it, she said, it’s all a lie.
I cursed a friend for not caring. For saying that my pain was fake. She told me I was lying as I laid my heart to rest. But I guess the curse was worth it.