19, the curse of the mother. A lineage still curled up in fetus stage, but it’s kick bold enough to shake the ground it wishes to conquer. You’re my biggest fear- to have all that I am spill open for the world to see, a mound hot and bloody; 19, don’t take it to heart when I turn my head from your kiss. It’s too frightening, the idea of dropping the weight heavy in my womb into a world where I haven’t found my way. -Celeste S. King