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Jan 2017
He's a hunter,
But comes when I call.
He was born in the wild.
He's wild still.
But he's always there
When my pain
Makes me wish for privacy.
His attachment
overrules, intrudes
just like his teeth  in my sleeve,
when he cannot
resist
the urge
to PLAY!
Written by
Kimberly Eyers
222
   PoetryJournal
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