Friday, April 27, 2012

Untitled

There were no endings in my house,
my childhood house.
Even when we tried to put the final period
at the end of the very last possible paragraph,
embers still smoldered-
stoked by my father and his incessant need to revive.
He kept things from their natural end,
arguments,
relationships
and eventually,
his marriage.
Clinging like a toddler on the first day of pre-school,
he suffocated his life.
Only untimely endings linger.

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