When I hadn't yet gotten used to your return

I held him first.

So tiny and full of fight.

Picked him up and lost him as he tried to be.

Picked him up again and said, "You're safe now." And I wanted him to be safe, I wanted him to be safe with me.

I say now that I shouldn't have. That maybe I was all wrong in doing so.

But then, he needed me. He needed me then, and I needed him to need me.

I held him first.

Bigger, and losing his fight.

Warm.

Picked him up.

Picked him up and lost him, as he tried to be.

Picked him up and said,

"Mommy's here now."

The way I should've more often. The way I hate myself now for not doing when I could.

The way I wonder why I didn't.

I held him first.

Picked him up.

Picked him up and lost him as he tried to be.

Picked him up and wished for him to believe, "You're safe now."

And I wanted him to be safe, I wanted him to be safe with me.