Your right lobe devised a genius plan to escape this burden,
Your left lobe calculated how 600 dollars a month could become obsolete.
Your hippocampus recalls a dreadful remark, “I want to keep it, think about the life we could have”
Your neurotransmitters made your heart pound,
pound so hard, and so fast, that it’s a miracle you weren’t booked in hospital room 201 next door.
Your eardrum rang to the sound of a high pitched agonizing cry.
The glabrous palm that comforted the fragile life with in it,
forgot to mention how important each crease and crevice was.
Your cones revealed to you, the light green eyes and dark brunette hair that steamed from your actuality.
Your fungiform papillae’s couldn’t decipher the sweet presence that embodies you,
instead implied that a sour nothing was left.
Your frontal sinus hinted that your tear ducts were full.
Every bodily function was in affect but somehow both lobes have forgot December 12th and your daughters existence.