Silent Losing

Crying silently, deeply within, searching for a memory with a face, there is none, only feelings and changes of a body to accommodate a new little child. Death is semi-real, there are no pictures to look at or show how my baby looked, there's nothing to see, but the loss of something precious, remains deep inside and is never-ending. The loss was real, or was it? A mind tries to separate it from life to give it meaning, but there is nothing there. No feelings left, just emptiness of a womb, there never was a face I could touch or see, just this deep impending loss, pressing itself upon my mind. Wanting to blind all feelings and other's babies from sight, having to stay busy, cannot talk of it even for I may cry. What is wrong with crying for a little baby that was supposed to be born, why must it's dying take away life's meaning and place it in a jar? Still seeing it, it never goes away, a gray ghost of a baby, insists on blindly throwing out life's whole meaning. Forsaking self, going on, so maybe one day I'll have a baby who'll live and bring joy and happiness back into my life.