All that is left of my time with you is a pink line. Up and down. A raised, blushing bump divides my right heel.
It is my only physical memory of you.
You lived so briefly in my body. Am I allowed to call it lived? Did you float, did your heart beat? Was something living there? My doctor said, “Maybe the heart never started. We can never know.”
I
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Comments 4
wow.
I don't have kids, have never been pregnant. so i can't know about that, but i do know about physical memory and scars.
not sure if this is an actual narrative, or a fiction..but...it made me tear up.
such a beautiful piece, and so sad.
-leander
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I hope this is imagination...
Blue..blue
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Thank you for your kind words.
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Have you heard of the Creative Nonfiction journal, Brevity? It's a perfect place to submit flash nonfiction and with a wee bit of polishing, I think this would make a great submission for publication.
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