that was the dress hanging there today

a silent reminder of yesterday's regrets

still wrapped in old pink tissue paper

and all white cotton eyelet and frills-

and they told me it was my "choice,"

but it wasn't at all,

and they told me they understood what i was going through,

but they weren't even close

just ghostly girl doll dresses

resting weary on pale wood hangers-

goodbye, baby, goodbye

they will tell me that you weren't meant to be,

not true , baby, not so

they will tell me that you weren't even a baby,

oh no, but yes, i will tell them that you were

even though they talk so clinically of conception

as if you weren't

flesh and blood,

on white cotton eyelet and frills,

lace collars and tissue paper dreams,

hanging still in the black of the nothingness

left where you were taken away

no choice on the giving or the taking,

no choice but this death that we see,

you and me, baby, just you and me