Epilogue

This house will never be the same. A home
without a heart, a heart without chambers.
there is something in the way she sit
at the kitchen table in early morning,
sipping her coffee, reading her papers. Something
about the way her eyes move. How they used to see me,
how they knew me.

Sometimes I hear her while she is sleeping
and I remember when she used to need me.

 

Car wheels and trips to the sea,
I remember when she breathed in me.

Car wheels and something made of plastic,
we built this house on broken glasses.

Reviews

[Kyle]

This is very intriguing. The last few lines make me wonder of the expanded meaning.