ends.

there are so many ends in us.
often ends that don’t meet up.
the jagged edges of the memories we dismiss.
there were once beginnings.
once possibilities.
once.
even that word is an end.
once… was… ‘we were’.
ends…
so many ends inside of us.
so many 
that we are simultaneously a present being;
living and breathing,
choking on excessive possibilities,
and the closure of a past being.
slaughtered by our memories.
choked by our previous possibilities.
simultaneously a beginning and an end.
simultaneously alive and dying.
simultaneously a ‘hello’
and a ‘goodbye’.

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