The morning will come.
Dawn once kissed her cheeks so lightly.
The unbelievable glow.
Makes her seem unreal.
Caught on fire.
In the swelling of her breast.
She feels the warmth.
The love she will provide.
The love she refuses to deny.
She wakes up ever so elegantly.
She stands in front of the mirror.
Unashamed.
The curve makes her seem grotesque.
And put out of place.
But she is neither.
She holds the bulge and wonders when its morning will come.
Will it know it is loved.
Will it know it was loved.
A tear clings to her lashes.
She breaths in and then out.
Clinging to the hope of keeping the mass.
She decides on her plan.
She will pack her bags.
And run away.
Cast away on a ship of make believe she will find her new home.
A home for her dignity.
A home for her baby.