The taste of regret is bitter, acidic
It rises up unexpectedly, choking me with its taste
How do I make this lingering disappear?
How could I have known to make that birth plan?
The one where the baby is dead.
How do you make those decisions,
In the split seconds when your world is ending?
You claw at the surface,
Gasping for air,
Mumbling out the first thoughts that run through your head.
I want this done.
And in the moments and days and months that follow,
The bitter taste starts to rise.
It tastes like regret.