Jul 2017
On the days I forget how to feel,
I lose my fingers in my dog’s soft fur
and allow myself to hold him.
His hug, the way he presses his nose into my hand,
nips at my fingers,
is softer than a human’s.
This strange wonderful creature,
sharp teeth and beating heart and simple mind that he is,
I think he will save my life.
I lose my fingers in my dog’s soft fur
and allow myself to hold him.
His hug, the way he presses his nose into my hand,
nips at my fingers,
is softer than a human’s.
This strange wonderful creature,
sharp teeth and beating heart and simple mind that he is,
I think he will save my life.
hi. long time no poem. so. a few days ago, my dog, whom i wrote this about, passed away. today i opened up my poetry documents, trying so hard to distract myself from tears, and instead, i found him everywhere, in little mentions and lines and words, and here - i found one poem for him entirely. i wrote this poem ages ago but sadly never published it while he was with me, and now the weight of it - of him - lays so, so heavy on my chest. (i still can't describe it properly. maybe one day.)
