She married a guy who looks just like me
And now
Their child
Is expected to be born
On my birthday
That kid
Will be more like me
Then him
I know it
I can feel it
I feel like his name
Will have some connection to mine
His life
Will be similar to mine
. . .
Why the hell would she have her kid on my birthday?
These ironies of life
Hurt
. . .
I haven't seen her
In so long
But if I do see her
I want to feel her belly
And I have never wanted to feel a pregnant woman’s belly before.
He’ll kick,
And swim in there,
When I am around
He’ll know
That his mom
Loved me once
And because of that love
She tried to replace me
With an imposter
And because of that
He was born
Because I met his mom one summer,
He was born
Because I was born,
He was
And that’s the way things go,
Don’t they?
We were all born because someone else was.
. . .
He is not my child
He is just the child of a woman I cared for once
A long time ago
He is just a blob of cells right now
But, I hope
Someday
That I get to meet him
He is not my child,
But he will be
Something special
He will be a good boy -
she deserves that.
But then again,
If he is like me,
Then he will be a menace of a toddler.
I guess I am glad I won’t be around for that part.
-CH
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