Carvings in a Heart

I remember the time when you stood on top of the bridge where we promised each other the world, and you had tried to fall to your death.

You said the world was too painful and that it wasn’t worth living, that without you… nothing would change.

But we ended up with warm hugs and salty tears flowing down our eyes, as we recounted the promises that we spoke of graciously.

Or that time when you had first learned how to walk -- that smile shining on your face as you fell into my arms.

Then you grew older, and you started understanding things. You began noticing what I said, all the frowns I gave you, and all the crystals that twinkled down my face.

Your favorite thing was to dress up as doctor… because when you heard the phrase “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”, you would confidently wrap yourself in my oversized lab coat and slice up apples for us to eat.

And I’ll never forget the time when you first said I love you. When you lightly rested your head against my stomach, and we read your favorite bedtime story -- where at the end you would return my embrace of love.

But all of this would never happen, as I sit in the blank walls of a doctor's office. My heart is weary and it aches with this eternal pain, as a crumpled piece of paper peacefully lies in my hand.

All of this would never happen because you are one of the many children I cannot have.