Friday, November 19, 2010

39/13: He wore his socks to his calves

i used to have a dad;
he was a good man with a barrel chest
and a ruddy face.
his hair, plain brown and his hands smelled
like oil.

he's dead now.

he died in a frenzy;
his voice broken apart by fear the last time i heard him.

i'm still incomplete

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