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0 · Jun 27
The black dog
Phoebe Jun 27
Today was not a good day.
I knew from the cracked glass,
The torn dress brushing my skin,
Memories left unlit.
I woke in a field of ruins—
Limbs weak, breath heavy.
Behind the trees: a stray dog,
Black as the edge of dusk.
Its gaze seized my insides.

Slowly, we reached a garden.
Silence settled between us
Until the dog whimpered
A sound like drowning,
And anger swelled in me again.

Today was not a good day.
It worsened, as the garden bloomed backwards.
I remembered golden lights,
Laughter that almost felt mine.
Shadows of us dancing 'til dawn,
The world, for a moment, paused.
Sweet relief, how I missed you so.
But grief leaves leftovers.

My hands had torn through debris,
My thoughts ruined every party.
All that remained was the dog,
A burden I’ve carried all my life.
When will I stop letting good things die?

Today was not a good day.
But the dog stayed, patient as always.
I promised to find it a home,
Somewhere beneath my heart of stone.
But for now, I’ll learn to let go,
Even though time keeps slipping,
And all I do is remember.

— The End —