Without

The thought of losing her child still burnt her core, like flaming daggers that jutted out from her abdomen.
Her pains continuously reminded her of what her belly lacked, an emptiness as she searched for something more.
“I had more…” she whispers to herself, realizing that now she has nothing. Blocking out bitter thoughts that pinch the minds tongue like vinegar; restricting logical thought from speech.
Disbelief in her grief buckling her knees, so she kneels before her truth. The same truth that violated her each night…and each morning…every morning this ‘Truth’ would plunge a fist into her and rip out her baby, the same way it did back when it first hit her. But the pain of the absence never got better…just emptier. It still felt like razor blades to the back of her mind – a flaming pitch-fork of ‘what if’s’ tearing through her insides – just like at first…but emptier; less emotion…no, rather no emotion.

Feeling like a hollow shell with not much more substance than a vacuum and all the consistency of a fading daydream.

There are some that speak differently of heaven and hell than the rest.
They describe heaven as ones happiest moment, frozen in an instant of time; and that’s where they’d stay forever – in a single second of infinite bliss. That being said, it should be clear to most what hell must be – unfathomably excruciating pain in one split second repeated for all eternity.

For all eternity…all of it, not part, ALL! And that’s exactly it…what she lived in every second that ticked by without her baby to hold; without her baby to fill the vacancy that existed between her arms; the vacancy that echoed through her life revealing her absence of self or anything that resembled meaning in any form. What meaning could there be for her to fulfil? What meaning could there be for the death of her little baby?!
And with the silence that replied her cries and moist screams, came the shallow words of a clichéd proverb she’d heard once, “Everything happens for a reason…”, so to this anonymous author she held contempt, for she saw no rhythm, rhyme, or reason for her stolen meaning and very reason for existing and for bothering to breathe.

She begged for her sunshine that never came. She begged for an antidote to the pain and an anchor to keep her senses sane.
But still the tears ran a race down the length of her face to finish as they leapt like suicidal waterfalls off of her lips, cheeks, and chin to the even colder surface of the floor.

Without warning, all consuming tears that flooded and suffocated all other feelings.
Without child, and love of such, leaving her without an out to leave to.