We made love a few times.
We imagined our DNA blended.
We spoke about the traits that we felt our baby would inherit.
We dreamt about love that our child would be showered with.
But you, my love, trashed everything we had – you dismantled it and expected to keep parts. The parts that you felt complimented your life.
I could not allow that.
I removed my own heart before you had the chance the trash that too.
The child we never had, is a child I’ll create without you.