I wonder if you wonder about me.
I wonder if my name gets stuck in your throat or if your hands shake on my birthday.
I wonder if you wonder what color my sister’s hair is this month or if you see my face behind your eyelids as you try to sleep.
I wonder if you know that I study psychology because I want to understand what made you not want me.
I wonder if I look like you or if I have your eyes or if my hair is the same color as yours in the sunlight.
I wonder if you wonder how many cavities I’ve had or whether or not I’m allergic to bees.
I wonder if you ever see me in the eyes of a child at the grocery store.
I wonder if you wonder about the damage you left in the core of my soul.
I wonder if you know how much of yourself you left in my sister.
I wonder if you think about what my favorite song is this week or whether I like to wear a scarf in the winter.
I wonder if you wonder if my heart has been broken because I was looking for attention from a boy who was not my father.
I wonder if you can still hear the crying of your wife as she comforted her sick child in the hospital on Christmas Eve.
I wonder if you know how much I hate you.
I wonder if you know how grateful I am that you left.
I wonder if you love me.
I wonder if you know what that means.