Growing


Sometimes when you hold my hand,
I can feel it shrinking into tininess,
and your warm palm feels like five-years-old all over again,
and your heartbeat feels like home.
My head swims with memories of you and of us,
and I try to stop thinking, and just feel.

But it grows back,
inch by inch,
and all of those things have already happened again.
and I'm not your little baby anymore- not for real.

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