At the end of the weekend,
I came home.
But you weren't there,
as I hoped...
When I asked my mom,
a tear fell to her phone.
that's when i knew-
Something's definitely wrong.
I left her, alone,
on the dark colored couch.
I searched everywhere,
that you loved to roam.
From time to time,
I thought I heard,
your cheerful bark...
I convinced myself,
I'm hearing your sleepy groan.
But that was all...
I myself knew, i was wrong.
Yet--I wasn't ready to mourn.
From night to noon, evening to morn,
I was hoping your return,
to my sorrowful mood.
But instead of that,
came the smell.
Sharp and sudden,
strong and brutal.
'Feel that smell? your dog is dead.'
Voices echoed, in my empty head.
I answered them:
"That, is smell of decaying.
My dog, he smells different...
Nothing like this."
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 6:20 AM UTC
A hoarse whisper,
at 2.49 a.m.
"it's over-it's over- it's-"
There, he is,
In his dark bedroom,
eyes wide open, but seeing nothing.
fists clenched with sheets, and nails sunk to the skin.
He mutters it, to the locked bedroom door,
as if it's someone who's listening
to his confession, sorrow.
2.50 it is
a tear, dull and frozen,
falls from his left eye,
just to land on his shaking upper lip.
"it's over- it's over- it's-"
his hair, wet with sweat,
voice rasp with dread,
with a broken throat and a heart,
he mutters the same, again and again,
in same pain,
same tone,
to the same silent wall.
his over bitten lip,
now glistening in red.
iron and salt, mixed in pain.
he feels it.
he cries, finally....
there 2.55, sleep is crawling,
not a fitful one, shaking, he falls asleep.
3.00 a.m. it is.
DANG!-the alarm..
he wakes up, again.
just to begin another day of hiding the suffering,
and suffering from hiding.
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 1:27 AM UTC