‘She was called Lilibeth’

Hi all! I wanted to share one of my favourite poems I’ve wrote. TW: It’s about death/infant loss so don’t read if it will affect your mental health in any negative way! Let me know what you think :)

She’d be sixteen,

head bent over books,

complaining about Macbeth

and biting her pen like it wronged her.

I try to picture her voice—

would it rise like mine?

Would she laugh too loud

and trip over her own feet

the way I used to?

The house still echoes

in places she never touched.

Photos with too much space,

a crib that wasn’t checked.

They say I was too young to remember.

But I remember

the way Mam went quiet in June,

how the air changed in hospitals,

how grief wrapped around toys

that never got names.

She’d be in school now.

She’d be scribbling hearts

on the back of her homework,

or maybe she’d hate school,

slam her door,

ask me to braid her hair

then pretend she didn’t like it.

And me?

I would’ve taught her

how to sneak biscuits

past Mam at midnight.

I would’ve known

what her laugh sounded like.

But I don’t.

And I won’t.

And she’d be studying now—

but all I can do is imagine

and miss her

like I knew her

all my life.

If you read my poem thank you! I hope you enjoyed!!