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Apr 2015
His chest rising and falling
That is all that I can look at
The bed is in the middle of the room
The center of attention

I have been waiting, anticipating, praying
to escape this dark room
where the only sounds are his breathing and
the consistent beeping that let’s me know he is still here.

I’m stuck. Motionless. Blank.
The sun from the window tells me to come alive
I can’t. It’s too hard.
He stirs and I stay put

I look to the side table
Those ******* flowers
smiling at me
So out of place
RIP dad.
Jules Margaret
Written by
Jules Margaret
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