Lie still my heart.

"Don't forget my play list." The last thing she said. The last thing I remembered her saying.

Nine months. 'Ten months actually' she reminded me. Often in the back of a taxi, on the narrowed steel fire escape, our 'roomy' twin bed. All of which she entered with quiet resevervations.

She carried our something. Our something better. Through the thankless administrative job on the umpteenth floor. Along the bittered and littered streets of the lower east side. Amidst the wretched blank faces scattered about the stale subway. She carried our something. She carried it until she couldn't anymore.

I see now. What it's like. I wish I didn't. But I do. There you are, unfettered, ubiquitous. Nurses quickly, quietly taking you about. Unsure of their exact intentions but I release upon their experience. You are so pretty. Just as you were on that summer afternoon in the park when the sun lit your face and breaze lifted your auburn hair as if it were curious to what lay beneath. It was in that moment you stole my heart and still keep it.

Now, with our something, watching, thinking. What do I do now? She is a mere fraction of us together but now our together is just me. Just me and our something. What do I do? How?

Just as that breeeze glanced upon your brow does the realization of your never ending beauty illustrate slightly through the blue eyes staring upon me.

New life for another. An even exchange? I wish I could determine but at this moment it is indetermined. My love for you has compounded inexplicably to our something. Our child. Your child. My child. I will love her just as I have loved you. Maybe greater. Maybe.