Nov 2020
My love is an abused dog
cowering in my chest.
I guard it like a mother wronged,
pacing with unrest.
The caring hand that feeds
blocks the fist from my sight.
I know the saying I should heed,
but I can’t help this bite.
cowering in my chest.
I guard it like a mother wronged,
pacing with unrest.
The caring hand that feeds
blocks the fist from my sight.
I know the saying I should heed,
but I can’t help this bite.
queen of using idioms as crutches instead of creating something original :)
p.s. poem's namesake comes from "Salt in the Wound" by Boygenius.
p.s. poem's namesake comes from "Salt in the Wound" by Boygenius.
