When the days turned to weeks to months and close to years
My feet hurt from the pull of gravity
and my heavy weight bearing down on the soles of my feet.
And there was hunger, but not for food.
But for... Companionship, loyalty,
and a friendly back to scratch.
But that is now just a dream.
As the sky turned grey and the night matured,
I, in my daily death bed, could not help but
wonder what happened to all the built up
Jumping up and down, fidgeting left and right
Shrieks of odd laughter.
That turned into irritation.
I spoke with just my mouth and wide open heart,
where everything is what I find and feel to be true.
But I did so without the filter of the brain to carve out the
Grime, dust, dirt, and muck that accompanies words.
I regret that truth-- it hurts, it stings, it's my feelings.
Thoughts dance around my head
Counting the sunsets and sunrise
Predicting how many more.
All there is, is kept to myself and my thoughts.
I look forward to when it will finally be mutual
whatever this is, at least.
And to finally be able to open up my mouth, heart, and brain, where time not a factor.