She. 

She holds her belly praying another miscarriage is not her portion. Counting kicks, please God don’t do this, whereas She holds her belly silently saying goodbye. Now is not the right time, he was the wrong guy, I’m struggling with just I…as she prepares to abort… for the third time. 

She desperately wants to be married, biological clock ticking, second finger from the left twitching whereas she sees a husband she’d run from in a heartbeat, diamonds returned, a woman scorned. Why did I let fear rush me. I was all I needed. I was free. 

She disappears craving space, craving solace in her own thoughts, me time, alone time. Bye world just for a minute. Invisible til’ further notice. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. Whereas she, social media fiend, hey everyone I’m here, poking you, waiting for what’s app ticks to turn blue. Needing company. Alone is scary, validation always due. Can I come over and drain you. 

She is, She was, She can, She can’t. Let’s support each other ladies. Together we can get through everything. Divided we just add another chapter to the drama. Queens reign, with love, empathy and understanding. 

God bless you … V 😘

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