Wednesday, March 18, 2015

#writeingriefDay 9-Mess around with NO. 


Ok. You asked for it. 
No. No, you cannot tell me to be grateful for the blessings that I have.

No, you cannot question whether I should use such ugly words.

No, you cannot ask me how I am doing and expect me to beam at you and blow golden sprinkles up your butt.

No. I don’t wanna. I don’t want to pretend right now. I don’t want to pretend for this audience, so I am not going to go. 

No. 

No.

No.

No. You shouldn’t be offended by my no. You shouldn’t give up on me. Please don’t give up on me. Keep showing up even when I shout NO at you.

But, no. I’m not going to go back to that person I was before. I don’t know her. I try to poke my face, see if she’s in there. Try to remember her. She’s gone. 

No.

No, you can’t do anything about any of it. You can just take me as I am. You can love me anyway. Or leave me. I’m ok. I have people. 

No. 

No heartbeat. 

No diapers.
No carseat. spitup. little girl giggles. 

No pink skirts. No little sister shirts.

No heartbeat. Again. No. 

Fuck you, no. Thank you, no. 

No. 

No birth certificate. No death certificate. No funeral. 

No. no. no. no. no. no. no.

Yes. Yes. I have a daughter. Yes she died. Yes she is loved. Yes she has a name. Yes. 

And no, nothing can take her from me. Not even death. Not even no death certificate. Not even no heartbeat can take her from me. Them. My babies. My little loves.

No. No nightmare; this is real.