In the deep dark nights when he curls against the backs of my legs Nestles in the crook of my bent knees I wake up enough to feel his breath on my hand.
My dog keeps me alive sometimes
When I come home bone-tired and exhausted, the world making a home in my eyes, he suctions himself to my side and brings me his very own things, knowing I need more than just he can give.
My dog keeps me alive sometimes
I tell him this when I feel so sad I want to cease existence and even that confession keeps me on my feet for another day.
And when he gets old and worn, I will get him a shadow so that I can be kept alive by another being who depends on me more than I depend on myself.